


An Unlikely Acquaintance

by the_guy_they_call_atlas



Series: An Unlikely Acquaintance [1]
Category: BioShock, BioShock Infinite
Genre: F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2018-09-30 14:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 69,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10164629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_guy_they_call_atlas/pseuds/the_guy_they_call_atlas
Summary: It's cold. That's the first thing she notices.The second is that she's not dead.





	1. Waking up in 1960

It’s cold.

 

That’s the first thing she notices.

 

The second is that she’s not dead.

 

Elizabeth opens her eyes, sure that this is just—well, she’s not sure, but she knows—or thinks she knows—that this isn’t real. She’s dead, she knows she is—but she moves her hand to her head to make sure.

 

Her skull isn’t broken.

 

Her eyes open all the way at feeling the mended bone beneath her fingers. Underneath the dried blood matted into her dark locks, it’s like it never even happened in the first place. She doesn’t understand—she had felt that wrench slam into her skull. She looks around, confused beyond all hell.

 

She’s sitting, slumped against the wall of a giant glass container. She squints, and she can just about make out where she is by the picture on the poster on the wall, though she can’t read what it says. She doesn’t have to—she knows now that she’s still in Rapture, though it looks as though a few years have passed since she did. Making to get up, she braces her hands against the glass sides and uses that to stand up. She takes a deep breath before stepping out of the container.

 

Now that the bright blue light of the Vita-Chamber is no longer surrounding her, Elizabeth finds she can barely see. Looking around for a flashlight of some sort, she wanders over towards the far side of the room, near the giant window providing most of the light.

 

It’s the rest of Rapture. From here, she can see it, sullied at is it, but still beautiful, in a haunted sort of way. Distantly, she thinks she sees the wreckage of a plane crash, the tail sticking out from one of the tunnels.

 

She frowns.

 

_How the hell did a plane crash all the way out here?_ she wonders. She shakes her head. It doesn’t matter. Probably just an accident, anyways.

 

She finds what she’s looking for tucked away underneath the nearest vending machine. She flicks the switch and a faint beam of light shines on the ground.

 

_Perfect,_ she thinks, and shines her beam of light on just about everything, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

 

She sees something in her peripheral vision and shines her flashlight to get a better look.

 

It’s a poster.

 

It has her face on it.

 

Belatedly, she realizes that this is the Songbird poster that was released when she was singing for Sander Cohen. Gingerly, she touches the lower left corner and smooths it down, but to no avail. The corner just curls up again. Sighing, Elizabeth takes one last look at the poster before moving on.

 

She doesn’t find much—some old soda cans, an empty trash can on its side, and another vending machine, although this one is broken. Splicers, she guesses.

 

She moves on to the next room, realizing that there is nothing left in here for her.

 

The next room has a bit more to offer—she finds a shotgun (she had woken up with no weapons) and some ammunition for it. She loads it half-way, seeing as she still can’t lift a fully-loaded one, and holds it in front of her until her arms get tired.

 

There’s a bot shutdown panel a little ways away, and Elizabeth makes a mental note of it, just in case.

 

There’s nothing else of interest in this room, either, and so she goes on her way.

 

She doesn’t find much else—she finds some more ammo, and a few more posters, but that’s about it.

 

Just as she’s about to head into the next room, she spots a radio. Kneeling to pick it up from its spot near the deceased Splicer, she finds that it still has some battery left. She turns it on, messing with the dials a bit before a crackly voice comes through.

 

“ _\--_ _f_ _rankly, I’m no_ _t even sure if he’s s_ _till human._ ”

 

She frowns again. She knows that voice, but she can’t quite place it. Before she can ponder further, another voice speaks.

 

“ _Then—do you—suggest?_ ”

 

“— _go for the—remember, one-two punch—and don’_ _t_ _forget to get the--”_

 

Damn static. She tries to ignore it, but eventually it blocks out anything the voices are saying. Either that, or they’ve just stopped talking. She contemplates joining their conversation, but ultimately decides against it. She has no idea who they are or whether or not they’re friendly—but then again, this is Rapture. No one is friendly.

 

The voices have gone quiet, and Elizabeth sighs, pocketing her new radio.

 

Maybe next time, then.

 

She stands up and begins to search for a way out of wherever the hell she is.


	2. Make New Friends...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth makes a new friend.

Splicers are officially the worst.

 

Elizabeth has been nearly beheaded, blown up, shot to death, and almost killed by those ugly, inhuman bastards.

 

Now she’s trying not to die by the hands of a Thuggish splicer while avoiding the gaze of a nearby security camera in the corner. She’s so screwed, it’s almost funny.

 

Almost.

 

She wonders if she can spare enough ammunition to take out the camera, but she soon realizes that that’s out of the question. Although she does have a long range weapon, she knows that the shotgun going off will definitely give away her position, and considering the state she’s in, there’s no ways he could survive the fight. Besides, there’s no way she could take it out in just one shot. The shotgun is way too loud for her to not give away her position, and she knows that one shot won’t take it out from this far away.

 

She’s so screwed.

 

She contemplates her last words, wondering if she should say something eloquent, like the truths of the universe of something.

 

In hindsight, she probably should have been paying more attention to the splicer.

 

She feels the blow before she sees it, the hard metal of the pipe smashing into her skull. She barely has time to think,  _ Not again,  _ before she passes out.

 

\--

 

When she comes to, she’s lying on the dirtiest floor she’s ever seen. Really, it’s filthy. For a moment, she forgets where she is, and wonders why these people have such a large aquarium. Then she remembers that’s not a window.

 

She sighs heavily, making to get up from the wet floor and smoothing down her ruined outfit. Well, what’s left of it, anyways. She might as well be wearing rags. The skirt is torn to hell, and the blouse--oh, don’t even go there.

 

She checks to make sure she still has her shotgun before heading off to find more ammunition for it. She finds an entire box of shotgun shells and is loading them into the gun when she hears the radio crackle to life from its place on her hip.

 

“ _ Now you’ve had--Andrew Ryan’s company. _ ”

 

She shuddered as she heard “Atlas’” voice.

 

“ _ Yeah, seems--fantastic guy, _ ” the other man said sarcastically.

 

Elizabeth smiled despite herself. Yeah, Andrew Ryan sure was something. That, at least, they could agree on.

 

Damn. she hadn’t even met the guy, and already she was judging him.

 

“ _ Who the hell is he, anyways? _ ”

 

“ _ He’s the one--place--into the ground. Nobody knows exactly--happened. Maybe he--mad. Maybe the power-- _ ”

 

_ Damnit,  _ Elizabeth thought furiously. She scrambled to unhitch the radio from her hip and fumbled with the radio a bit, trying to get a better signal.

 

“ _ \--Whichever way you slice it, a good man died. _ ”

 

Elizabeth snorted. She doubted very highly Andrew Ryan had ever been a good man.

 

The voice continued, seemingly unaware of her interruption. “ _ Me family’s in a submarine hidden in the foundation of Fontaine Fisheries. I’ll meet you there. _ ”

 

“ _ Okay. Thanks, Atlas. _ ”

 

“ _ No problem, boyo. _ ”

 

Elizabeth waited for a few more seconds for someone to say something, but it was quiet. Sighing, she replaced the radio on her hip and continued to load the shotgun.

 

As she holds the gun in her hand, now fully loaded, she thinks.

 

So.

 

Atlas is still alive. Fontaine, she corrects herself mentally. Atlas is just a name. An illusion. Another con.

 

Does he know she’s here? Does he know she’s alive?

 

That’s another question, she supposes. How is she alive? There’s no way she could be--maybe this was all just a dream.

 

_ It’s one hell of a dream, then,  _ she thinks to herself.

 

No, it’s not a dream--she’d know if it were. Maybe it’s a Tear?

 

No. Her pinky is still intact. And besides, she had been dead. There was no way she could have done that.

 

Another question: who is the other man?

 

He’s obviously just a pawn on Fontaine’s chess board--the poor chump had clearly had no idea who he was really talking to, from what little Elizabeth could hear of their conversations. She silently curses the bad reception again.

 

She doesn’t know.

 

All she knows is that she’s in some deep water, and she can’t seem to swim out of it.

 

\----

 

“ _ Atlas, I found the research camera. Now what? _ ”

 

Elizabeth gives a start, before realizing it’s just her radio. She lowers her shotgun a little, listening carefully.

 

It’s silent for a few second before the mysterious man speaks again.

 

“ _ Atlas? Atlas, are you there? _ ”

 

He’s starting to sound distressed, and Elizabeth wishes there was something she could do about it. She doesn’t know why, but hearing him distressed is starting to make her distressed.

 

“ _ Atlas! _ ”

 

Later, she’d look back and wonder what made her do it. What made her unclip that radio and press the button.

 

Her finger is on the button, ready for her to speak, to reassure or to further frighten the man on the other side of the device. But she doesn’t.

 

She’s silent, unsure of what to say or how to say it.

 

The man is unaware of her plight, muttering incoherently on the other line, though Elizabeth thinks he’s probably just panicking.

 

She doesn’t want him to panic.  _ Don’t panic,  _ she tries to say, but nothing comes out. She wonders if that was for her or for him. She’s not sure. Maybe both.

 

“I...uh.”

 

Immediately, the man stops talking.

 

She’s starting to regret saying anything at all.

 

She swallows. “My--my name is Elizabeth.”

 

More silence. Elizabeth wonders if he even heard her.

 

“Uh, can--can you hear me?”

 

She starting to think he didn’t when he speaks. “ _ Yeah. I can hear you. _ ”

 

Elizabeth breathes out through her nose in anticipation. When he doesn’t say anything else, Elizabeth speaks up again. “Who are you?”

 

“... _ I don’t think I should answer that. _ ”

 

“No no no, it’s okay. I’m not--I’m not one of them, I promise.”

 

“ _ How can I be sure? _ ”

 

“You can’t. You’ll have to take my word for it.”

 

That false bravado is back, replacing the anxious fear she had felt not moments before.

 

“ _...Alright then. _ ”

 

The awkward conversation between them is gone, replaced with the silence from earlier. Elizabeth doesn’t like silence--she never has--and so she says, “What’s your name?”

 

“ _ Jack. _ ”

 

“...Jack.”

 

“ _ Yes? _ ”

 

“No, I was just--nevermind. It’s just it’s a common name, is all.”

 

“ _ I suppose it is. Miss Elizabeth, if you don’t mind my asking, were you on a plane just a few hours ago? _ ”

 

“I--um--what?”

 

“ _ Were you on a plane? Specifically, Apollo Air Flight DF-0301? _ ”

 

“I--um--”

 

Suddenly, she has a vision.

 

_ There’s an airport. An airplane with the words “APOLLO AIR FLIGHT DF-0301” stamped onto the side is getting ready to depart. _

 

_ A man. His back is turned, but Elizabeth knows who he is. She’s seen him before, in visions. He pulls out a gun, he aims it at the stewardess, and-- _

 

_ The ocean. So calm, and peaceful--and then, the plane crashes. Fire is everywhere, and so is the plane. AMong it all, the man surfaces--and even now, Elizabeth cannot see his face. He swims towards something--Elizabeth cannot see what it is, but as she turns to look, she sees another vision. _

 

_ A lighthouse. It stands, untouched by the destruction around it. The man clambers to the door, and opens it--and Elizabeth’s vision ends. _

 

Her nose is bleeding. When did her nose start bleeding?

 

Remembering where she is and what she’s doing, she thinks quickly. She decides to fall back on her old habit of lying to get herself out of a jam.

 

“Uh--yeah. How’d you know that?”

 

She hears him exhale on the other side of the radio. “ _ Damn. There were other survivors, after all. I thought for sure that I was the only one left. _ ”

 

“Well, that’s not the case.”

 

“ _ What happened? Do you remember? _ ”

 

“No. I just remember...well, there was a lighthouse. I remember heading inside to one of those bathysphere things, but I guess I must’ve blacked out. Next thing I know, there’s this--thing--trying to kill me.”

 

This. This is what she’s used to now, what she knows. The lies, the false air of importance, the indifference for anyone but herself. This is who she is now. She wonders if that’s for the better.

 

“ _ Yeah. A lot of things down here are trying to kill you. Where are you right now? _ ”

 

“I--why?”

 

“ _ Don’t get all suspicious now, miss. I’m just trying to help here. Where are you? _ ”

 

She looks around. She’s not sure where she is; there are a few peeling posters on the walls, dead bodies are everywhere, and distantly she thinks she can hear the pattering of tiny feet on the moldy carpet.

 

“I’m not sure.”

 

The man curses.  _ “Okay. Well, um. Then I can’t really help you-- _ ”

 

“Wait. Who said anything about helping me?”

 

“ _ Well...don’t you want help? _ ”

 

“Not necessarily. I’m fine on my own, thanks. I can handle myself.”

 

“ _ I’m sure on the surface, you could. But, miss, you have to understand--these people, they’re not like you and me. They’re insane. If you want to make it out of here, alive, then you’ll have to-- _ ”

 

“ _ Boyo? Who’re you talking to? _ ”

 

Elizabeth stills.

 

“ _ It’s okay, Atlas. She’s not a Splicer! She’s from the plane crash. _ ”

 

“ _ What? _ ”

 

Elizabeth hears his accent break ever-so-slightly, and she tenses.

 

She can’t let him know she’s alive, if he doesn’t already know. She has to--

 

She lets go of the button. She sighs.

 

“ _ Atlas, we have to help her. We can find her, we can-- _ ”

 

“ _ Boyo, no. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do but pray that she makes it out. _ ”

 

“ _ Atlas, she won’t. She’ll die. _ ”

 

Never let it be said that Elizabeth was a heartless woman. Her heart aches for the guy--she wishes she could let him know she was alright, but she can’t risk it with Atlas on the channel. She has to ignore him.

 

She has to, but that doesn’t mean she wants to.

 

“ _ Are you really willing to risk the life of my wife and child for someone you just met? _ ”   
  


“ _ I just met YOU!!! _ ”

 

“ _ Listen, boyo-- _ ”

 

She turns the radio off again.

 

\----

 

Thirty minutes later, and she’s somehow managed to avoid the Big Daddy and his Little Sister, kill a few Splicers in her way (one of them, Elizabeth realizes with glee, was the one who knocked her out earlier), and figure out where she is.

 

Not that she’s going to tell the man--Jack--that.

 

She knows she can’t contact him again, for the sake of safety--but it had been nice to talk to someone who wasn’t a drug-addicted psychopath. Plus he had had a nice voice, which, you know, wasn’t bad. At all.

 

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, Elizabeth looks around, cautiously raising her weapon just in case.

 

She turns around. Nothing.

 

All she sees is a sign that reads, “ _ FONTAINE’S DEPARTMENT STORE _ ” looming above her.

 

She’s tempted to shoot it.

 

She doesn’t, though; instead, she turns around and heads to where she thinks her ticket out of here is.

 

\----

 

There’s a slight problem.

 

Her ticket out of here is gone.

 

The bathysphere isn’t docked where it should be, and Elizabeth realizes too late that Atlas--Fontaine--and his men must’ve taken it.

 

_ Damnit _ , she curses mentally. How did she not think of that?

 

_ Okay. Okay. Calm down. Just...think of a plan B. You can do that. You can do that. _

 

As she tries to think up a new plan, she feels her heartbeat start to quicken. She can’t breathe, oh God, she can’t breathe--she’s hyperventilating. She squeezes her eyes shut, clenching her fists tightly.

 

It takes her a moment to realize that she’s panicking.

 

_ Knock it off,  _ she tells herself. It doesn’t work.

 

_ What do I do? What do I do? _

 

Is this her fate? Suffering a quick death, only to be brought back to life to suffer a slower one?

 

If she doesn’t get out of here, she’s going to die. Either that, or start splicing. Eventually. There’s not enough ammunition lying around to last more than a day, and eventually she’ll run out of EVE. She supposes if she scrounged hard enough she might be able to find another weapon, but she doubts it would have any ammo in it. The shotgun hadn’t. She didn’t want to become one of those things that she’d killed not too long ago, but if she was going to be stuck here forever, she might not have a choice.

 

She wished Booker was here. He would know what to do.

 

Booker…

 

Suddenly she had an idea. Booker might not be here, but-- _ he  _ was.

 

Now, if there was one thing Elizabeth hates, it’s admitting she needs help. But it’s either asking for help or risk dying in here--again.

 

She turns on the radio and presses the button.


	3. On the Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If she wants to get out of here, she's going to have to follow his advice.

“Jack?”

 

No answer.

 

She tries again. “Jack.”

 

Again, silence.

 

She’s starting to panic again. “Jack!”

 

“ _ Damnit Atlas, I’m getting them. Just hang on-- _ ”

 

Elizabeth jumps when she hears a loud  _ BANG!  _ coming from the other side of the radio. It’s quickly followed by another  _ BANG!  _ and then a scream.

 

“ _ Take THAT, you ugly-- _ ”

 

“Jack!”

 

“ _ Atlas, I-- _ ”

 

“I’m not Atlas.”

 

_ BANG!  _ “ _ Oh. _ ”

 

Elizabeth sighs. “Um, do you--do you remember me?”

 

“ _ Uh. Yeah, I--oh, no you don’t!--I think so. You’re the girl, right? Elizabeth? _ ”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“ _ So, you’re still alive?--Hey, buddy! Want a light?” _

 

Another scream, following by laughter.

 

Elizabeth shakes her head. “I don’t suppose you set him on fire?”

 

“ _ Uh--yeah. How’d you know? _ ”

 

She resisted the urge to smile. “Listen, I need some help.”

 

“ _ You don’t say, _ ” Jack teases.

 

“Shut up.”

 

“ _ Fair enough. What do you need? _ ”

 

“Uh...advice?”

 

_ Advice is a good place to start _ , she thinks. She waits for his response.

 

There’s a loud  _ thunk  _ on the other side, and Elizabeth wonders if he maybe hit his head on something. Then she hears a scream, and figures that maybe Jack a lead pipe or something he was using as a weapon. She makes a mental note to take a leaf out of his book. “ _ Advice on what? _ ”

 

“Erm...well, I figured out where I am.”

 

Another loud  _ thunk _ . “ _ That’s good. _ ”

 

“But I don’t have a way out.”

 

“ _ That’s bad. _ ”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“ _ Have you--agh! You little--oh, oh crap. Not good. Not good. _ ”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“ _ Uh, Big Daddy. Be right back. _ ”

 

“Wait,  _ what?!  _ Jack? Jack!”

 

Silence. She waits for a few moments, but the line remains silent.

 

“That bastard,” she grumbles to herself.

 

She waits about ten minutes for him to come back before giving up.

 

“Guess I’m on my own, then,” she says, to no one in particular. “Hooray.”

 

\----

 

She’s been scrounging for something,  _ anything _ , to help her out, but so far, she’s empty.

 

She sighs, getting up from her crouching position on the ground and beginning to head back towards the bathyspheres when something catches her eye.

 

She turns, and, is that a--

 

It is.

 

Elizabeth hurries over to the corpse lying in the far corner of the tiny room. Trying her best to ignore the smell, she picks up the item that had caught her eye and inspects it closely.

 

Well, she was right about eventually finding some weapons down here.

 

She checks the crossbow’s ammunition.

 

It also appears she was right about the ammo.

 

Elizabeth groans. “I can’t catch a break, can I?”

 

\----

 

Twenty minutes later, and she still hasn’t found any ammo for the crossbow. Really, it’s starting to get pathetic. Elizabeth has just about given up when she hears the familiar crackle of the radio from her hip.

 

She grabs it, pressing the button almost at once.

 

“Jack?”

 

“ _ Uh--yeah. H--hi. _ ”

 

He’s out of breath, Elizabeth can tell; he’s taking such big breaths she thinks he’s almost hyperventilating. She waits for him to continue.

 

“ _ S--sorry. For--for leaving you--like that. My bad. _ ”

 

“Yeah, you’re damn right. You’re so lucky you didn’t die, jackass.”

 

“ _ Don’t be--so sure--about that, _ ” he chuckles. He freaking  _ chuckles _ , godammnit. He continues after a moment, “ _ So, ah--what did you need me for? _ ”

 

“I need--”

 

“ _ Right, right. A way out. Did you check to see if the bathysphere was still there? Or are you trapped in a room? _ ”

 

“I’m in Fontaine’s Department Store, and yes, I checked for the bathysphere. It’s not there.”

 

“ _ Ah. Did you try calling it? _ ”

 

“Did I try--what?”

 

“ _ Did you try calling it? _ ”

 

“You can do that?”

 

“ _ Uh--yeah. There should be a lever somewhere around the bathysphere dock that you can pull. Should call up another one. _ ”

 

“Uh--okay.”

 

A pause. “ _ You don’t believe me. _ ”

 

She scoffs. “I’m never too inclined to believe anyone. No matter who they are.”

 

“ _ Well, it’s good to know that it’s not a personal thing. _ ”

 

She doesn’t have a good response to that, so she doesn’t answer.

 

\---

 

“Alright, I found it. Now what?”

 

“ _ Uh, pull it, obviously. _ ”

 

“...Right.”

 

She re-attaches the radio to her hip before she puts both hands on the lever and pushes down with every ounce of strength she possesses.

 

It won’t budge.

 

She tries again.

 

Nothing.

 

“Jack, I think it’s stuck.”

 

“ _ Wow, something not working in an old, abandoned building that hasn’t been used in years? What a surprise! _ ”

 

“Quit being a smartass and help me figure this out.”

 

“ _ Alright, alright. Um...okay, let’s see...wait, hang on. _ ”

 

She hears the snap of a camera going off, then he’s back. “ _ Alright, I’m here. Uh, maybe you could find some oil or something for it. Oil tends to get things unstuck, right? At least, it did where I grew up. Go find some oil. _ ”

 

“Where the hell am I supposed to get oil?”

 

“ _ It’s a department store. There’s all kinds of stuff just lying around. I’m sure you’ll find some somewhere. _ ”

 

Elizabeth nods before she remembers that her companion can’t see her, so she says, “If you say so.”

 

“ _ Glad to hear it. So, uh, listen, I’m kind of in the middle of something here--get back here, you bastard!--so, ah, maybe-- _ ”

 

“...Right. Talk to you later, I guess.”

 

No response. Elizabeth rolls her eyes, shaking her head.

 

She turns and looks around the bathysphere area for anything that could be of use. She doesn’t find anything, of course, but when she catches sight of her own hand resting on the lever, she gets an idea.

 

She pulls back, charges up her plasmid, and fires.

 

Nothing.

 

“Damnit,” she grumbles. “Out of EVE.”

 

Jack’s voice comes through the radio. “ _ Oh, by the way, Electro Bolt won’t work. _ ”

 

She has no idea what he’s talking about until she remembers that Electro Bolt is the injectable equivalent of Shock Jockey. Blushing, she replies, “I wasn’t trying to use Electro Bolt.”

 

“ _ Mhm. Listen, if you wanna get out of here, you’re going to have to find something to get that lever unstuck. And your best bet right now isn’t a plasmid, it’s something that’s known to get things unstuck. _ ”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Got it. I’ll go find some, while you do...whatever it is you’re doing.”

 

“ _ Taking pictures for a crazy old fisherman. _ ”

 

“Er--what?”

 

“ _ Forget it, Liz. Good luck! _ ”

 

“It’s  _ Elizabeth _ .”

 

Again, no response, and Elizabeth gives her best bitchface to the silent radio before leaving the bathysphere dock to go find something that will get her the hell out of here.

 

\----

 

“ _ Tasty ADAM, yum… _ ”

 

“ _ Get out of there, sugar! We want your ADAM! _ ”

 

Ah, great. Splicers.

 

Just what she needs right now.

 

They’re huddled around a Little Sister vent, banging on it with their various weapons. Elizabeth knows that won’t end well for them; it never does. They don’t seem to have noticed her yet. She’d like to keep it that way, so she elects to ignore them, and continues on her way.

 

Unfortunately, her life sucks.

 

“ _ Hey! Who’s the pretty lady? _ ” one of them yells, pointing his wrench at Elizabeth.

 

_ Oh, shit _ , she thinks.

 

“ _ Dunno, but it looks like she’s got ADAM! Get her! _ ”

 

Elizabeth wonders whether she should run or if she should fight. Two seconds later, however, she doesn’t have a choice.

 

One of the Splicers knocks her upside the head with the side of his gun, and Elizabeth falls to the ground.

 

Scrambling to get up, she flips around onto her back and reaches behind her for a weapon. Her hand falls on a lead pipe, and, using all of her strength, she grabs it and smashes it into the first Splicer’s face.

 

Using his pain as a distraction, Elizabeth gets up from the floor and swings the pipe into the second Splicer’s stomach, and then turns around to deliver a killing blow to the first one.

 

He dodges it.

 

_ Guess he’s learned his lesson, then _ , she thinks to herself. She readjusts her grip and swings again, this time aiming for his legs. She gets one solid hit in before the second Splicer tackles her from behind, causing her to drop her weapon in surprise.

 

The Splicer claws at her back, trying to get as much skin off of her body as possible. Elizabeth tries to shake her off, but to no avail. She briefly wonders if she could make a reach for one of her weapons, but soon decides that’s impossible. Even if she could, there’s no way she could kill the Splicer on her back without injuring herself, and the first Splicer seems to be down for the moment, so for a few seconds, he’s not a threat.

 

She finally manages to elbow the Splicer on her back right in the stomach, which takes enough wind out of her to make her grip weak. Elizabeth uses this golden opportunity to finally shake her off. Once she’s free, she grabs her shotgun and shoots the first Splicer, who had just started lunging at her, and then she turns around and blows the second one’s head off.

 

Oops.

 

She’s suddenly reminded of all of the times her father had done the same thing, and she wonders if those had been accidents too.

 

She shrugs. “All’s well that ends well, I suppose,” she mumbles to herself. She kneels down and grabs the lead pipe from its place on the floor. She holds the weapon in her hand for a few moments before nodding and adding it to her inventory.

 

\-----

 

Thirty minutes later, she finds herself in front of The Daily Bread. It’s the only place she hasn’t checked yet. The entrance, of course, is locked, but for Elizabeth that’s only a minor setback. She kneels in front of the door, getting straight to work.

 

“It has to be in here,” she says to herself. “It  _ has _ to be.”

 

Not ten seconds later, she hears the familiar  _ click  _ of the door being unlocked. She stands and pushes the door open, heading inside.

 

\-----

 

The inside is, simply put, a pigsty.

 

Bottles of alcohol are scattered all over the place; on the bar, on tables, even on the floor. A destroyed security turret lays among the mess, and from the looks of it, it’s been that way for a while. The smell of rotting food permeates the air, and Elizabeth wrinkles her nose in disgust. She soon finds out why--food lays at the tables, some of it half-eaten or barely touched. One dish in particular even has maggots writhing around on it. Elizabeth resists the urge to throw up.

 

“I don’t remember it looking like this last time,” she muses, as she avoids the broken glass of a bottle smashed roughly against the floor.

 

She collects herself quickly and gets to work on finding that oil can.

 

\----

 

She doesn’t find anything on the upper level (surprise, surprise), so she heads to the second level to find her much-coveted oil can.

 

She’s walking downstairs when she hears something that gives her pause.

 

Is that...singing?

 

She stops to listen, holding her breath.

 

“ _ In the house of upside down, _

_ Cellar’s top floor, attic’s ground. _

_ In the house of upside down, _

_ Laughing cries and smiles frown. _

_ In the house of upside down, _

_ Found is lost and lost is found. _ ”

 

“What the hell?” she whispers.

 

It’s a little girl. What the hell is a little girl doing in a place like this?

 

It’s only when she hears the little girl say in a sing-song voice, “Come on, Mr. B! The angels don’t wait for slowpokes!” that she realizes... _ oh. _

 

That’s not a little girl--that’s a Little Sister.

 

Which means that--

 

Sure enough, not two seconds later she hears the responding groan of a Big Daddy as he picks the Little Sister up off the ground and places her on his shoulders.

 

It’s a few seconds before she realizes they mean to head up the stairs, but the second she does, she runs. She runs and she doesn’t stop until she’s on the first level again.

 

She’s panicking again. God, she hates panicking. She screws her eyes shut and thinks about what to do.

 

She can’t run. She’s never make it. The Big Daddy is way too fast, and if he sees her, he’ll come after her.

 

She could hide, she supposes. A place like this has to have nooks and crannies to store things, though whether she would fit into any of them is another thing entirely.

 

She hears the Big Daddy coming up the stairs and realizes she’s out of time. Thinking quickly, she ducks behind the counter and waits, eyes shut tight.

 

The Big Daddy is on the first level now. Elizabeth’s eyes are still closed, but she can hear his big, heavy footsteps as they pass by the counter. She sighs with relief before realizing what she’s done and clamping her mouth shut.

 

Fortunately, the Big Daddy doesn’t seem to notice as he exits the bar, destroying the door as he does so. Elizabeth hears the Little Sister say, “Mr. B! You ruined the door!” as they leave.

 

She uncurls from her crouched position behind the counter as she opens her eyes. She heaves another sigh of relief and she looks over the counter, making sure she’s truly alone before standing up.

 

She makes to go back downstairs when her foot hits something metal that rolls across the floor. She walks over to where it had stopped and stoops down to pick it up.

 

It’s an oil can.

 

She shakes it a little. It’s still got some oil in it.

 

She grins.

 

“Finally, some good luck today,” she chuckles, making sure to grab it as she makes her way out of The Daily Bread.

 

\----

 

Back at the bathysphere docks, Elizabeth prepares to radio Jack for further instructions. She places the oil can on the little pedestal that the lever is on and unhitches the radio from her hip. She presses the button, ready to speak, when the voice of Atlas stops her.

 

“ _Sounds like that should about do it. Head on back to Fontaine Fisheries when you’re ready, Would You Kindly?_ ”

  
Her heart stops.


	4. Well, Look Who It Is!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth meets her new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm the absolute worst at chapter summaries. I admit it.

“ _ Would you kindly? _ ”

 

The words are still ringing in her ears, echoing in her skull, taunting her with their meaning.

 

No.  _ No, no no _ . It...couldn’t be…

 

Jack is the Ace in the Hole.

 

She had been right. Jack is nothing more than a pawn on Fontaine’s chess board. But to have it so bluntly presented to her, on a silver platter...God, it hurt to think. To think that the man she had been about to radio was activated by the very phrase she had gotten for Fontaine so long ago.

 

But it wasn’t his fault, she supposes. From what she’d found out from Audio Diaries and such, he’d been the unfortunate victim of scientific experimentation. She’d known he was a person, of course, and she’d known that Atlas intended to use him to bring down Andrew Ryan--but she’d never imagined (quite naively, she now realized) that  _ Jack  _ could be the Ace.

 

And...it was her fault.

 

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she bends down to pick up the radio that had fallen from her hands. She inspects it for damage, and, seeing almost none, presses the button.

 

“Jack?”

 

She steels herself for his response, even though she knows it will probably be a normal one. Just because she knows about him now doesn’t mean he does.

 

“ _ Hey. Did you get it? _ ”

 

She still flinches when she hears his voice. She tries to sound normal (and  _ not  _ guilty). “Yeah. So, how do I apply this stuff?”

 

She listened as Jack talked her through it, and when she was done, she tried the lever again.

 

It moved.

 

“ _ Did it work? _ ”

 

“Yeah. It worked. I can hear the bathysphere coming as we speak.”

 

“ _ Great. _ ”

 

Another one of those awkward silences that only seem to happen between them. She clears her throat in an attempt to disperse it.

 

“ _ So, where should I meet you? _ ”

 

“Whoa, whoa. Who said anything about meeting up?”

 

“ _ Well, I assumed you would want to-- _ ”

 

“I just  _ met  _ you. Remember when I said I didn’t trust people I’ve just met?”

 

“ _ Actually, you never said that. I do remember you saying that you ‘weren’t too inclined to believe anyone’ though. _ ”

 

“Well, I don’t trust people I’ve just met.”

 

“ _ Something tells me you don’t trust anyone. _ ”

 

“Well, you’d be right.”

 

She pauses, wondering if she’s being too harsh with him. She doesn’t think so--just because she’s just found out he’s a genetic experiment doesn’t make him a different person. He’s still the same as before--but maybe, if she’s with him, she can keep an eye on him. Maybe make him less susceptible to Fontaine’s lies. Of course, she can’t tell him that his buddy “Atlas” is a phony--that would screw with the future. No, she knows what needs to happen--but that doesn’t mean she can’t be around him to make sure he doesn’t expire as soon as Fontaine is done with him. Because, believe it or not--she actually likes him a little bit.

 

“Where are you right now?”

 

“ _ Uh--what? _ ”

 

“Let me rephrase that. Where should I meet you?”

 

“ _ I thought you didn’t trust people you just met. _ ”

 

She scoffs. “Changed my mind, I guess.”

 

“ _ Huh. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you don’t do that often. _ ”

 

“Just tell me where we’re meeting,” she snaps.

 

“ _ Arcadia. I’m heading there now. _ ”

 

“Arcadia? Where the hell is that?”

 

“ _ I don’t know. I just got in the bathysphere and pressed the damn button. _ ”

 

“Okay...guess I’ll be seeing you soon, then.”

 

“ _ I guess you will. Looking forward to it. _ ”

 

“I could say the same.”

 

“ _ But? _ ”

 

“I won’t.”

 

He laughs, which makes Elizabeth feel...weird. It’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling, though. “ _ You’re a strange one, aren’t you? _ ”

 

“You have no idea.”

  
  


&&&&

Ten minutes later, and Elizabeth is standing in Arcadia. The first thing she notices is that it’s easier to breathe here; probably because it’s a part of the rest of Rapture, she thinks. Not that Fontaine’s Department store wasn’t--it’s just that Arcadia wasn’t at the very bottom of the ocean, like the department store was.

 

After a few minutes of fumbling, she manages to get the bathysphere door open just wide enough for her to slip through. She lets it fall closed behind her, wincing when she hears the loud  _ BANG! _ as it echoes through the space.

 

Pulling herself together, she begins her long journey through Arcadia.

 

&&&&

 

Arcadia, it turns out, is a lot more plentiful in supplies than the department store was. In the first twenty minutes, Elizabeth finds more ammunition for her weapons, a first aid kit, and a couple of EVE hypos, which she stores in a satchel she found not too long ago. She also finds a half-loaded pistol, which she promptly has to use to fend off a couple of Splicers looking for some ADAM, which she doesn’t have, obviously.

 

She’s just finished looting their corpses for valuables when she hears footsteps around the corner. She quickly abandons the corpses and positions herself against the wall, lead pipe in hand, waiting for the Splicer to turn the corner.

 

It seems like an eternity before he comes--but when he does, Elizabeth is ready for him. Before he can even turn the corner, she swings her weapon, smashing it into the Splicer’s face with a  _ thwack! _

 

“ _ Son-of-a-- _ ”

 

Elizabeth wastes no time in rounding the corner, lead pipe held high above her, ready to bring it down on the enemy’s head. Before she can, however, the Splicer winds his arms around her legs and pulls, sending her toppling backwards. She falls to the ground with a  _ thud _ . She struggles to get up, but she can’t see anything--the world is blurry.

 

The Splicer gets up, pointing his gun at her face, ready to shoot. A few seconds later, he speaks.

 

“You’re not a Splicer,” he says curiously. He lowers his weapon.

 

Elizabeth groans, shaking her head. She immediately regrets the action; moving makes it so much worse. She clutches her head, willing the pain away.

 

When she opens her eyes again, she finds she can see. She looks up at the Splicer, who she now realizes isn’t a Splicer at all--rather, it’s a young man.

 

It takes her a few seconds to realize he’s offering her his hand; but when she does, she takes with caution, allowing her to help him up.

 

She gives him a once-over once she’s on her feet again.

 

He certainly doesn’t _look_ like a Splicer; he’s wearing a simple yellow cable-knit sweater and slacks, and his shoes, although covered in blood and grime, were once (as far as Elizabeth can tell) fancy and new. He’s tall, but he’s not lanky--or muscled. He looks like your typical “man in his young twenties.”

 

Elizabeth regards him with suspicion.

 

“Who are you?” she asks accusingly.

 

“Uh, well. My name’s Jack. Listen, I have to be going, I’m supposed to be meeting someone--”

 

“Wait. Jack?”

 

“Uh--wait. Liz?”

 

She frowns. “It’s Elizabeth.”

 

“Hm. I like Liz better. Anyways, nice to finally meet you face-to-face.” He offers her his hand again.

 

She hesitates before gingerly placing her hand in his. They shake hands for a brief moment before Elizabeth feels a jolt of electricity zap her hand, and she pulls it back in surprise.

 

“Ow!”

 

“Oh, damn. Sorry, I have a Gene Tonic that--nevermind. Sorry.” He smiles nervously, brushing his brown hair out of his eyes.

 

That weird feeling is back, settling in the pit of Elizabeth’s stomach and gnawing at her insides like a bunch of angry caterpillars. She tries her best to ignore it, instead electing to pay attention to the numbing pain in her left hand that even now is beginning to fade.

 

She clears her throat nervously. “It’s--it’s alright. Er--what Gene Tonic--”

 

“Static Discharge. I think.” He looks sheepish now. “Really, I’m sorry. It’s supposed to shock enemies, I--I didn’t think-”

 

“Seriously, it’s fine. See?” She wiggles the fingers on her left hand to show that the effect has worn off. “All better.”

 

“Right, right. It’s just--geez. Anyways, uh, now that we’ve ‘officially’ met, I don’t suppose you’d like to accompany me to the Tea Garden?”

 

“The--what?”

 

“It’s an area in Arcadia. I’m supposed to be heading there now, but--you know.”

 

Elizabeth nods. “Right. Uh, yeah, sure. I suppose I could tag along.”

 

Jack grins. “Fantastic. Let’s go.”

 

And just like that, he walks past her and heads to the Tea Garden, leaving Elizabeth no choice but to follow.

 

&&&&

 

“ _ Oh. _ ”

 

Elizabeth is stunned at what she sees. Instead of a pigsty, like she was expecting, she sees near everything where it’s supposed to be. Trees--at least, what she assumes are trees (they look a lot like the ones in her books) are on either side of the small bridge giving passage across the river. Several more can be seen in the small space, dotting the scenery. Numerous bushes are scattered around the area; some with flowers, some not. Rocks are also present; there is even a waterfall near the bridge.

 

It’s eerily beautiful, Elizabeth thinks, and she’s awestruck for a moment.

 

“Wow.”

 

She starts when she hears another voice, but quickly realizes it’s just Jack. She shakes herself out of her thoughts and turns to him.

 

“So. Here we are.”

 

“Uh. Yeah.”

 

She walks over to one of the trees and places her hand on the massive trunk, gently running her hand over the rough bark. “It’s...it’s insane. Who knew that this kind of stuff could--could  _ grow _ down here?”

 

Jack regards her curiously. “You really are strange,” he comments, before walking over to the corner of the garden to inspect something.

 

Elizabeth walks over to where Jack is, looking down at the Audio Diary.

 

“ _ Property of Bill McDonagh _ ,” she reads, taking the recording out of his hands. She presses play.

 

A second later, she hears a gruff voice echo through the room

 

“ _ Seems like some poor blighters have started seeing ghosts. Ghosts! Ryan tells me it’s a side effect of this Plasmid business. One poor sod’s memories getting passed on to another through genetic sampling. Leaks. Lunatics. Rebellion. And now bleeding ghosts. Ain’t life in Rapture grand? _ ”

 

The recording ends, leaving silence in its wake. Elizabeth looks at Jack.

 

“Huh. Well, that explains it.”

 

She frowns. “Explains what? Are you seeing these ‘ghosts?’” she asks, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

 

Jack doesn’t answer. His attention is fixed on something behind her, but when she turns to looks, she sees nothing.

 

“Uh, Jack?”

 

Again, no response.

 

She’s starting to get irritated now. “Jack!”

 

He puts up a hand to silence her.

 

Elizabeth has just enough time to bristle at his audacity before he straightens and finally looks at her.

 

“What?” He sounds  _ annoyed _ , which makes Elizabeth even more irritated with him than she already is.

 

“What the hell was that?”

 

“It’s nothing. Let’s just keep going.”

 

“No, what was that? Was it the ‘ghosts?’ Are you seeing them?”

 

“Yes, okay? I’m seeing ghosts. Everyone is. Aren’t you?”

 

“No!”

 

“You--what do you mean, ‘no?’ You’ve spliced by now, haven’t you?”

 

Elizabeth feels her cheeks heat up in indignation. “No, I haven’t. I suppose you have? God knows you’d be stupid enough,” she snaps.

 

“Hey, screw you. It’s not my fault I want to get out of this godforsaken place. Besides, it’s not like I’m going crazy with the stuff. I’m taking just enough to survive out here. You might wanna start doing the same, unless you  _ want  _ to die down here.”

 

Her whole face is heated and her fists are clenched so tightly that she’s almost positive they’re drawing blood. She wants to yell at him--God, she wants to yell at him--but she doesn’t. She has more self-control than that. Instead, she takes a deep breath and says as calmly as she can, “You know what? It doesn’t matter. As long as you don’t become one of  _ them _ , then we’re fine. Let’s just...keep going. Okay?”

 

Jack, apparently, is not as naive as Elizabeth had thought. He seems to realize that he’s tested her patience to the breaking point, and he immediately backs down. He sighs. “Alright. Fine. Let’s...go to...I dunno. What’s the next room?”

 

“I, ah…” She looks around for some sort of sign telling them where to go next. She sees a sign for the storage room on the far side of the room, and, seeing that all other entrances are blocked, decides that their best bet would be to head in there.

 

“There,” she says. “It’s a storage room. Could be some supplies in there.”

 

Jack seems to consider it for a while. Finally, he says, “Sure.”

 

“It’s settled, then. We’re heading to the storage room.”


	5. Et in Arcadia Ego

They don't find much in the storage room-just a couple of empty crates and a pistol for Elizabeth. It's empty, of course-typical of things in Rapture. Jack gives her a couple of his own rounds, and Elizabeth loads them into her new weapon as Jack turns the area over for other supplies that they might have missed.

Of course, he doesn't find anything except for a couple moldy slices of bread and a dead rat curled up in the corner. He tells Elizabeth as much, who shakes her head.

"Ugh. I hate this place."

"Same here. The sooner we're out, the better. Come on, let's head to the bathysphere. We need to head to head to Hephaestus."

Elizabeth follows him out of the room, putting the newest addition to her arsenal in her satchel. They've just exited when Elizabeth hears something.

" _Christ, is somebody there?_ "

Jack immediately turns around, only to be confronted by the door Elizabeth had just closed behind her.

"Liz, someone's there."

"Elizabeth," she corrects him. "And I didn't hear anything," she lies. Now is not the time to delay from their current objective, whatever that is.

" _Hey, can you help me, man? Can you help me out?_ " the unknown voice yells again, this time louder.

Jack begins to open the door, but Elizabeth stops him. "It could be a trap."

"Or it could be someone in trouble. Stay here if you want-I'm going in."

And he does. He opens the door and heads straight inside, leaving Elizabeth on the other side, gaping at his stupidity.

She groans, getting out her pistol and reluctantly following him inside.

* * *

"So? Not seeing anybody."

Jack glares at her, but doesn't say anything as they walk through the storage room again.

It's a few minutes before they hear the voice again. When they do, Elizabeth immediately realizes that she was right-it _was_ a trap.

" _Hello, beautiful!_ " the Splicer cries from somewhere hidden in the room. Elizabeth whirls around, expecting to come face-to-face with him-but he's nowhere to be seen. Instead, she sees a red puff of smoke where she assumes the Splicer used to be.

"Where'd he-" Jack begins, but is quickly cut off by the man-Splicer-himself.

" _Hey! Over here!_ " The Splicer snaps his fingers and Jack is nearly set on fire. He dodges the attack just in time, though.

"Gah!"

"Damnit. Okay, here's the plan-"

She has to cut herself off to avoid also being set on fire by the Splicer, who has just reappeared behind Jack. "Jack! Behind you!"

Jack turns just in time to see that the Splicer has his fingers pointed at Jack's head, ready to charge up a Plasmid, and jumps out of the way, leaving Elizabeth vulnerable to his attacks. She charges up her current Plasmid and hopes that whichever one it is, it's effective.

She releases, and the Splicer shrieks in pain as the effects of Shock Jockey course through his body. She grins, making sure to turn the safety off before aiming her pistol at the Splicer's face. He crumples to the ground, dead.

Pausing to catch her breath, Elizabeth turns to look at Jack, giving him a pointed look that quite plainly says, _I told you so._

Jack nearly misses the look, instead focusing in the dead Splicer on the ground. When he does notice, however, he frowns. He lets his head fall back, groaning, "You were right, okay? You were right." He throws up his hands dramatically. "Can we keep moving now?"

Elizabeth flashes him a falsely sweet smile. "Of course," she says.

Jack gives her his best bitchface before stepping over the corpse of the Splicer and heading upstairs.

* * *

He's mumbling.

She really hates it when he does that.

"What?' she finally snaps, turning to him.

He stops rifling through the pockets of the corpse he's kneeling beside and looks at her curiously.

"What?"

"What are you mumbling about?"

"I'm not mumbling."

"Yes, you are. Now, either tell me what's wrong or shut up."

Jack grunts. "It's just. What kind of Splicer can _do_ that? Teleport, I mean. I've never seen a Splicer do that before."

Oh. That's what's wrong. She didn't know what she'd expected. "Oh. Um, they're called Houdini Splicers. They...teleport, and stuff."

He casts an accusing glare her way. "'And stuff?' You mean like use Plasmids?"

She ignores it pointedly. "Yeah. Are you done yet?" she asks impatiently, changing the subject.

Jack notices. "Subtle," he chuckles. It's without humor. "Uh, almost."

"Why exactly are we going to Hephaestus again? I don't think you ever told me."

He doesn't answer. Elizabeth doesn't know if she's grateful for that or not.

* * *

Damn Andrew Ryan.

Damn him and everything he stands for.

" _Ryan's woman in Arcadia is an old betty named Langford. An okay sort, but not above doing a dirty job for a dollar. If she's still kicking around, I'm sure she's gonna want to save her trees. After all, she planted the damn things_ ," Atlas' voice echoes through the radio.

"Okay...any idea where to find her?" Jack asks.

Both wait with bated breath as Atlas mumbles incoherently through the radio. "Um, Atlas?"

" _Yeah, hang on...Okay. Try her old lab. It's a place called 'Langford Research Laboratories.'"_

"Where is that, exactly?"

" _It's in Arcadia. You'll find it._ "

" _How,_ exactly?"

The radio doesn't respond.

"Great," Jack grumbles. "Guess we're on our own then. You know, sometimes it feels like he isn't even helping at all."

Elizabeth snorts at this. "Gee, I wonder why."

"Oh, come on. I know _you_ don't trust people you've just met, but-"

"But you do?"

"If they're trying to help me get out of a failing dystopia filled with things that want to kill me, then yes. Besides, Atlas has done nothing but help me. Why would someone trying to kill me do that?"

Elizabeth knows the answer, but she doesn't tell Jack that. Instead, she simply says, "Let's just find this Langford woman and get the hell out of this place. It's unsettling."

" _Unsettling?_ I thought you were a woman of taste," he jokes.

Instead of humoring him with a response, she simply rolls her eyes and turns away, heading towards the nearest door.

She hears Jack huff a quiet laugh before hearing his footsteps as they make to follow her.

* * *

"It just doesn't make any sense. If Arcadia supplies oxygen to all of Rapture, why kill it off? Unless Andrew Ryan isn't human, which, at this point, seems kind of likely, then he also needs oxygen, yes?"

Jack shrugs. "Maybe he's got his own supply in his office."

Elizabeth stares at him like that's the dumbest thing she's ever heard. It's not, but it's definitely up there.

"Wow. Just...wow."

Jack scowls at her. "I'm just speculating."

"And _that's_ what you come up with? Seriously?"

Jack doesn't grace her with a response.

* * *

He keeps staring at her.

She's starting to get irritated, because whenever she catches him doing it, or calls him out on it, he denies it. Seriously, it's getting annoying.

"Why do you keep staring at me?" she asks the sixth or seventh time she catches him-she'd lost count a while ago.

"I'm not staring," he replies, for the sixth or seventh time.

"Yes, you are. You keep staring at me. Why?"

He doesn't answer, which makes Elizabeth fume.

" _Why?_ " she demands to know.

That gets him to say _something,_ although Elizabeth isn't sure what.

"What?"

He mumbles again, but this time she catches most of what he's saying. "Just..doesn't make sense, is all. You being here, I mean."

"What do you mean?"

He looks her in the eye now, and Elizabeth can see now that his face is red. It takes her longer than it should to realize he's blushing. A few more words from him confirms that it's from embarrassment. "You're just...weird, is all. I mean, you seem to know a lot about this place, despite your being here an accident. And that's another thing-I looked for survivors. I didn't find _anyone_ alive. I found bodies. That's it. So how the hell did _you_ survive?"

Elizabeth had been waiting for him to question her story. It had been bound to happen sooner or later, she supposes. "I guess I was farther below the water than you were," she replies. Her voice is calm, but her heart quickens with fear. Fear of what, she doesn't know-but she knows the feeling of fear, and she's feeling it right now.

Jack looks unconvinced. "Uh-huh. Sure."

"Look, believe me or don't believe me, what I'm saying is the truth. And I'm not going to tell you different."

It's funny, how she's trying so hard to convince him to believe an obvious lie. She doesn't really know why she thought he would believe her-maybe she had thought she was better at this game than she actually was, or perhaps she had thought him an easy target because of his naivety. It doesn't really matter now, she supposes-just that he believe it.

She snaps herself out of her musings and turns to look at her companion. He's staring at her again, the hint of a smile on his face, and Elizabeth is suddenly struck with a startling, yet at the same time completely obvious, realization.

"Do-do you think I'm _pretty?_ Is that why you keep staring at me?"

Jack looks like a child who's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "What? No," he scoffs, trying to play it off. He turns away from her gaze, choosing to look at the floor instead.

It's Elizabeth's turn to look unconvinced. "You _do._ Oh, my God."

"I do _not,_ " he denies vehemently, folding his arms across his chest defiantly.

Elizabeth chuckles, turning back to her task of searching the corpse before her for valuables. "Yeah, sure."

She turns the body over on its front, trying her hardest to ignore the smell, now ten times more pungent. Rotting flesh does not smell good when it's been marinated in salty seawater.

She rifles through the pockets, but finds nothing of value. She sighs, stands up, and heads over to the next one.

Briefly, she wonders if maybe he feels the angry caterpillars too, but she quickly dismisses that thought, instead focusing on finding a first aid kit for Jack's head injury that he'd gotten in their last battle with another one of those Houdini Splicers.

"How's your head?" she asks nonchalantly, turning the corpse onto its back to look at its pockets.

"It's fine," he mumbles. She really hadn't taken him for a mumbler, but she also hadn't taken herself to be the type to kill a man for petty revenge. She's been wrong before-she admits it.

"Really? I would have thought that getting a lead pipe smashed into your skull would be at least a _little_ disorienting."

"Oh, and I suppose you would know, seeing as you've clearly been hit in the head with a heavy piece of metal before. Right?"

Elizabeth rolls her eyes, not bothering to grace him with a response. As she pulls a first aid kit from the inside of the corpse's satchel, she thinks to herself, _Yes, yes I would._

* * *

" _My trees! It wasn't you, was it? No... Ryan...! I think I've got a way to save the trees, it's a genetic vector that- Oh, look who I'm talking to... Could you find me a sample of Rosa Gallica for me? Look in the Grotto... I've got to keep working while there's still time…_ "

The television cuts to black once more, leaving Elizabeth and Jack standing in front of it, unsure of what exactly just happened.

"Come on," Elizabeth finally says. "We'd better find that 'Rosa Gallica' sample."

"And where, exactly, would that be? If you hadn't noticed, she didn't really give us the specifics."

She shrugs. "Guess we'll have to find it on our own, then."

"Great," he grumbles. "Another mission where we have to 'look until we find it.' God, I hate those."

Elizabeth puts her hands on her hips and glares at him. "Do you _want_ to be stuck down here for the rest of your life? Which, given your tendency for stupid decisions, is bound to be short, by the way."

Jack gives her another classic bitchface and storms off down the tunnel, leaving Elizabeth to follow him, smirking.

* * *

"So...where are you from?"

Jack casts a suspicious glance her way, which impresses Elizabeth greatly. She wouldn't have thought he was capable of such a thing. "Why do you care?"

She shrugs. "Just making small talk."

A pause.

"I'm from New York," she lies, to ease the growing tension between them. "I...lived there with my father. He was a private detective."

"Fancy," he says. "What made you decide to leave?"

"Adventure, of course. It's what every girl wants. I...wanted to see the world."

"Huh."

There's more of that awkward silence that happens when one of them is silent for too long, and Elizabeth can feel the tension growing thick in the air.

Jack breaks it by saying, "I grew up on a farm. In Wisconsin. It...it wasn't perfect, but...it was home."

His voice is tinged with sadness, and Elizabeth wonders if he actually did live on the farm before he was activated, or if that fantasy was just something that Fontaine had made up and put in his head as part of the elaborate con he was currently pulling. Continuing the conversation with some caution now, she says, "What made you decide to leave?"

"I went to visit my cousins in England. Dad's side of the family." He smiles, but it's quiet, and has a tinge of sadness to it, much like his voice. "The flight was delayed an hour. After that, well, we boarded, and...well, you know what happened next. I think I was asleep when it happened...the next thing I know, I'm falling into the freezing cold water and trying to stay alive. What about you? Where were you headed?"

"Paris," is her automatic response, and she's just as shocked by it as Jack is.

"Paris." He whistles. "Wow. That's...quite a place. Can you speak French?"

" _Oui, je peux parler fran_ _ç_ _ais._ "

That gets a laugh out of Jack, who says, "I guess you can. What did you say?"

"'I can speak French.'"

He nods. "Ah."

His gaze suddenly makes Elizabeth feel uncomfortable, and so she tries to avoid it, looking anywhere but at him. Her eye catches something large and pink growing on one of the bushes.

"There it is! Over there."

Jack looks to where she is pointing and grins.

"Finally. We've only been looking for it for two years," her companion grumbles, stepping up to the bush and plucking the flower off of it. He inspects it for a moment, turning it over in his hands before seemingly making a decision and handing it to Elizabeth.

She looks at him questioningly.

"I'm too clumsy. I'll probably crush it or something," he explains.

She nods in agreement, moving to take the flower from his hands, but Jack pulls his hand back before she can. He hesitates before moving to brush a few strands of hair out of her face and placing the flower in her hair. He cocks his head, admiring his work.

Elizabeth moves to touch the flower, but is suddenly afraid of disrupting it. She drops her hand to her side. "I could have shot you, you know," she mutters, blushing furiously. She ducks her head to avoid his gaze, hoping he doesn't notice how red her face is.

"Yeah, I just realized that. Probably should have warned you," he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Elizabeth smiles.

Yet another one of those awkward silences ensue. Neither of them say a word to break it for a while.

"You look...nice."

The corner of her lips turn up in a sort of half-smile this time; she's not exactly sure what to say to that, but she appreciates the compliment all the same. "Thank you," she murmurs, barely audible.

That awkward tension is threatening to come back at any moment, and Elizabeth scrambles to find something to say before her thoughts are interrupted by Atlas.

" _Did you get it yet? It's been at least thirty minutes._ "

Both jump at the sudden noise, and Jack picks up his radio.

"Yeah, we found it. We're heading back now."

" _Good._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> Thank you so much for following this story so far! I really appreciate all of your comments; they make my day!
> 
> This note is just to let you know that after the next chapter, there will be two different POVs in the story: Elizabeth's and Jack's. I figured that since a lot was happening with the both of them, it would be beneficial to add both sides of the story. The main POV will still be Elizabeth, though; after all, this is her story.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for your support! It means a lot!


	6. Et in Arcadia Ego (Part II)

“ _Julie, we made a business deal, you and I, did we not? Money changed hands. Let me read to you from the agreement... Section 3, Subsection 4: 'Ryan Corp maintains exclusive rights to the creation, use, and exploitation of the Lazarus Vector'. Ownership is civilization, Julie. Without it, we're back in the swamp…_ ”

  


“Mr. Ryan? No... Wait... No! _Please_! _Mr. Ryan!_ ”

  


Both Elizabeth and Jack watch in helpless horror as Julie Langford chokes to death inside her own office.

  


She scrawls four numbers on the window before her body crumples, a lifeless husk of the woman with whom they had been conversing only moments before.

  


“I’m going to be sick.”

  


“Don’t you dare.”

  


“Liz, I mean it. I’m going to throw up.”

  


“Then do it over there. _Away from me._ ”

  


Jack excuses himself fairly quickly, leaving Elizabeth to ponder the meaning of the four digits on the window.

  


“Four digits…” she murmurs. “Four digits. A code. But to what?”

  


“Maybe it’s to her safe,” Jack calls from wherever he is.

  


“What safe?”

  


“Saw a safe in there. Maybe that’s the code.”

  


“Huh. Are you done yet?”

  


“Uh, almost finished, yeah.”

  


Elizabeth rolls her eyes and folds her arms across her chest impatiently, waiting for him to get back.

  


He does after a few minutes, and Elizabeth immediately regards him with suspicion.

  


“What?”

  


She doesn’t say anything, waiting for him to get the hint.

  


“Oh, come on--yes, I washed my hands. God, woman.”

  


She can’t help but smile just a little bit at that. “Thank you.”

  


“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get that damn safe open so we can see what was so important that she spent her last moments writing out the code.”

  


\----LINE HERE

  


“What the hell is this?”

  


Elizabeth takes the piece of paper from him as he looks inside the safe again.

  


“I have no idea,” she admits. She tries to ignore Jack’s huff of laughter following her comment.

  


“Oh, shut up. You didn’t know either.”

  


“Yeah, but I don’t act like I know everything.”

  


Elizabeth frowns, ready to retort, but she looks at the piece of paper again and reads the barely readable scribbles at the top of the page.

  


“Laz..Laz…” she tries to read aloud. She squints. “Lazar..Lazarus...Vector. Lazarus Vector. Says it can bring...oh. _Oh._ Jack. Jack!”

  


She tugs on his sweater, which startles him and causes him to bump his head against the safe. He pulls his head out, scowling as he rubs the spot that had been hurt. “What the hell was that for?” he whines.

  


“Don’t be a baby. Look, it’s the Lazarus Vector.”

  


“Oh, that’s...great.”

  


A pause.

  


“Clearly I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”

  


“Oh my--look, it’s that thing Langford was talking about.”

  


At this, Jack takes the paper out of her hands and frowns.

  


“I can’t even read this.”

  


Elizabeth groans. “You are  piece of work, you know that?”

  


He smirks. “I do know. What does it say?” he adds quickly, seeing the look on her face.

  


“Well, it’s a list of ingredients, apparently. We get all of those, and all we have to do is go to one of those U-Invents and put them in. And voila, we have a Lazarus Vector.”

  


Jack doesn’t say anything for a bit. Then, “God, I hate these kinds of missions.”

  


\-----LINE HERE

  


“ _Isn’t there anything in this damn place those pagans won’t steal? Paper towels, ink pots, witch hazel, chlorophyll solution, even my back issues of National Geographic. They’re feathering their disgusting little shrines with it, I suppose. Sick bastards._ ”

  


\----LINE HERE

  


For the first bottle of chlorophyll solution, they head back to the first Houdini Splicer they killed. Sure enough, in one of his pockets, Jack finds a tiny bottle of green liquid.

  


“Bingo.”

  


“Is that it?” Elizabeth asks, eyeing the bottle with caution.

  


“I think so, yeah. It has to be.”

  


“In that case, we only need to find five more bottles. I saw one in Langford’s office; we can grab that one on our way back.”

  


Jack grins. “Perfect.”

  


\---LINE HERE

  
“Six down, one more to go,” Elizabeth says as she plucks the second-to-last bottle off of the dead Splicer’s corpse. She pockets the item, making sure her satchel is closed before turning to Jack. “What’s the next ingredient?”

  


He looks at the list again, squinting, before finally giving up and handing it to his companion. “I can’t read this. It’s too damn messy.”

  


She grabs the list out of his hands and looks it over. “Uh...we can either go for enzyme samples or distilled water.”

  


Jack considers it for a moment before nodding his head. “Enzyme samples it is.”

  


\----LINE HERE

  


“Liz! Turn it back on!”

  


“It’s _Elizabeth,_ and I did! It has to take effect!”

  


“Damnit…”

 

“How many have you got so far?”

  


“Uh...three,”

  


Elizabeth curses.

  


\---LINE HERE

  


They’re heading to some place called “Worley Winery” when ELizabeth stops in her tracks.

  


“Liz? What--”

  


“Shut up.”

  


“What?”

  


“Shut up, okay? Shut up.”

  


She hears him before she sees him. The heavy _clunk, clunk, clunk_ of his metal feet echo through the halls of Arcadia as he moves towards their position.

  


“Seriously, what’s wrong?”

  


“Do you _want_ to die?!”

  


“...No?”

  


“Then--wait, that wasn’t a question. Why did you answer it like it was a question?”

  


“I just--”

  


“Nevermind. Just stay still and maybe he won’t notice us.”

  


“Who? The Big Daddy?”

  


“... _Yes._ Who the hell did you think I was talking about?”

  


“I...don’t know.”

  


“You don’t seem to know a lot of things.”

  


By this point, the Big Daddy has nearly passed by them, and Elizabeth sighs with relief.

“Wait...do you hear that?”

  


She listens. At first, no, she doesn’t hear anything--but then she finds out what Jack is talking about.

  


“ _Hurry, Mr. B! Angels are waiting for our kisses._ ”

  


“It’s a Little Sister. So?”

  


No response.

  


“Jack?”

  


She turns to her companion, who looks like he’s steeling himself for something nasty. “I’ll be right back,” he tells Elizabeth.

  


He begins to step out of the hiding place that Elizabeth had pulled them into, but Elizabeth pulls him back.

  


“Are you crazy? He’ll see you!”

  


“That’s the point, Liz.”

  


“It’s Elizabeth. And what do you mean--oh, no. No, hell no. I am not letting you get yourself killed because you think you’re stronger than you actually are.”

  


“Trust me, I can manage. I’ve taken down Big Daddies before, believe me.”

  


“I don’t and I won’t. Listen, Jack, listen to me, please. You are going to get yourself killed. Please don’t. Please, he’s almost gone, just let him go--”

  


“Why do you care all of a sudden what happens to me?”

  


She knows why. She’s not sure if she should tell him or not, but as he turns to continue his suicide mission she grabs hold of him again.

  


“Because you’re my friend, damnit. And I’m not going to lose another person I care about over some stupid mistake.”

  


She’s begging now, she knows it; but she doesn’t care. Anything she can say to keep him from going toe-to-toe with a Big Daddy.

  


He’s looking at her now, quite strangely--a mix of wonder and surprise on his face. His face suddenly hardens and he tears himself away from Elizabeth.

  


“Sorry,” is all he says before pointing his pistol at the metal monster and firing.

  


Immediately, the Big Daddy groans, turning towards Jack slowly. Its multiple eyes are red, and he charges at Jack, who dodges the attack with relative ease.

  


“No, no, no! Goddamnit!”

  


She’s panicking again. She really hates it when she does that.

  


_What to do, what to do, what to do..._

  


She looks back at Jack, who has just fired another round of bullets at the Big Daddy. She knows he’s about to run out of ammo soon--he had mentioned earlier that he needed to buy more rounds for the pistol. His other weapons are over here with Elizabeth, but most of them don’t have any or very little ammo in them. Groaning, she decides there’s nothing she can do but join the fight.

  


Grabbing her crossbow, she aims it at the monster’s head and fires, still hiding in the nook that she had initially pulled Jack into. Almost as soon as she does, his attention is turned away from Jack, looking for the dumbass that just tried to take him out with a shot to the damn head.

  


Elizabeth winces.

  


Well, that hadn’t gone according to plan. Mainly because she didn’t have one.

  


She’s eerily reminded of her father in this moment, and how half of the time he didn’t have a plan either.

  


She really wishes she had taken after her mother instead.

  


Loading another bolt into the crossbow, she aims it again and fires another bolt at the Big Daddy.

  


This time, he groans in frustration at not finding the complete idiot who thinks they can take out a Big Daddy with a couple of pointy sticks.

  


Jack is still firing away at the metal monstrosity, and Elizabeth grins.

  


_We might actually win this,_ she thinks, just as she hears the click of Jack’s gun as he fires his last bullet.

  


They both hold their breaths, waiting for the Big Daddy to realize that Jack’s out of ammo.

  


_Or not,_ she thinks. _Or not._

  


The Big Daddy charges.

  


Thinking quickly, Elizabeth jumps out of her hiding spot and fires another bolt at the Big Daddy’s back.

  


She hears something pop loudly, and she realizes that she accidentally hit its oxygen tank on its back.

  


The Big Daddy seems to notice this as well, suddenly stopping its attack on Jack. For a few moments, it does not move.

  


“Liz, what the hell did--”

  


A loud groan fills the space, and Elizabeth nearly drops here weapon in surprise at the sound of it. Jack’s hands drop his pistol and cover his ears, and as the moaning gets louder, Elizabeth is forced to do the same.

  


She can see blood dripping down the side of Jack’s neck mere seconds before she feels the wetness of her own sliding down the sides of her face.

  


She looks at the Big Daddy, who is now desperately clawing at its metal head. Elizabeth almost feels sorry for the thing. It’s a mere handful of seconds before the metal brute collapses to the ground, dead from a lack of oxygen.

  


Elizabeth takes a moment to catch her breath before letting her hands fall to her sides, now covered in her own blood. She looks at Jack, and her eyes practically pop out of her skull at what she is seeing.

  


Jack is moving towards the Little Sister.

  


She doesn’t notice him; she is too busy mourning her fallen protector, screaming, “Mr. B! Noooo!!!!”

  


Elizabeth tries to get his attention before it’s too late. “Jack, what are you doing? Jack!”

  


Either he doesn’t hear her or he doesn’t care, because he continues to advance towards the Little Sister, who is still unaware of his presence.

  


“Jack!”

  


Jack doesn’t respond, but the Little Sister does. She whirls around, coming face-to-face with Jack. She screams.

  


“No! Get away from me! You killed Mr. B! You killed Mr. B!”

  


It happens so fast, Elizabeth almost misses it. Jack reaches out, picks up the Little Sister, and places his hand, which has begun to glow, onto her forehead. She stills, going limp in his arms as a bright, white light fills the room.

  


When Elizabeth can see again, she sees Jack kneeling next to the Little Sister--except, she’s not a Little Sister anymore. Elizabeth gasps when instead of an ADAM-crazed child, she sees a small, frightened little girl.

  


“T--thank you, mister,” she stammers, barely audible. “Thank you for saving me.”

  


“It’s no trouble,” Jack replies cheerily. “Hey, can I ask you a favor, though?”

  


The little girl cocks her head at him curiously, wondering what this kind stranger is going to ask of her.

  


“Can I have your ribbon?”

  


“Huh?”

  


“That thing in your hair.” He points to make it easier for her. “My friend needs it.” He points again, this time to Elizabeth.

  


The little girl follows his gaze to where Elizabeth is. Elizabeth suddenly feels rather self-conscious, and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She waves.

  


“Oh! Sure, mister!”

  


She reaches back to untie the ribbon in her hair. When she’s done so successfully (which takes a few minutes thanks to her insistence that she doesn’t need help), she hands it to Jack.

  


He thanks her and stands up, holding out his hand to her. She takes it gladly, allowing him to lead her to the nearest vent. As he passes by Elizabeth, he hands her the ribbon.

  


“Here,” he says as he drops it in her open palm. “I figured you might need that. Your hair is always getting in the way.”

  


She nods. “Thanks.”

  


The little girl is tugging at his hand now, and Jack turns to go. He stops at the last second, however, turning to Elizabeth once again.

  


“Oh, and by the way, you’re my friend too.”

  


She smiles.

  


Jack smiles back before he’s practically dragged away by the little girl, eager to get back to wherever she came from.

  


As she watches them walk away, she sighs, putting her hair in the ribbon that Jack had given her before grabbing her crossbow and following them.

  


\-----LINE HERE

  


It’s as they’re walking back to Langford’s lab to make the Lazarus Vector that she decides to finally bring up the question.

  


“Back there, with the Big Daddy...how did you do that?”

  


“You mean how did I kill it? Or, well, _help_ kill it. Lots of practice, Liz. Lots of practice.”

  


“No, that’s not what I mean.”

  


Jack looks at her, confused, before realization dawns on him. “Ah. You mean the Little Sister.”

  


“Exactly.”

  


“You wanna know how I cured her?”

  


“‘Cured?’”

  


“Yeah. Cured. Tenenbaum gave me this Plasmid, you see. It ‘cures’ them of being Little Sisters.”

  


“How?”

  


“I don’t know. All I know is that it works, and that’s what matters. To me, at least, that’s what matters.”

  


He doesn’t say anything else for a few minutes, so Elizabeth assumes he’s done talking. Which is fine with her; she isn’t really in the mood for talking anyways.

  


Is that how he is going to do it? How he is going to save Sally and all the rest of the Sisters?

  


It seems obvious that the answer is ‘yes’; after all, Elizabeth reasons, he had just cured a Sister right before her very eyes not an hour ago. But saving them all?

  


This man, the man standing beside her, is going to be the savior of every child whose childhood was stolen from them. Whose fate seemed to be to wander the streets of a forgotten utopia, forever living in a mass hallucination of a paradise.

  


She briefly entertains the idea that maybe Jack won’t save them _all_ \--perhaps only some. But no--her visions have made it quite clear that Jack is the one and only savior of the Little Sisters, aside from Tenenbaum.

  


She had heard about Tenenbaum while she was living in Rapture the first time. From what she had heard, she was a geneticist who only cared about making the next scientific breakthrough. Now though, it seems as though she is another person entirely, whose only goal now is to save as many of the monsters she helped create as she can.

  


Elizabeth supposes that by doing this, Tenenbaum has somewhat redeemed herself of her past sins.

  


That doesn’t make her a saint, however.

  


Elizabeth wonders where the change of heart came from. Perhaps she got tired of doing such terrible things with her life. Perhaps it was revenge against someone.

  


Perhaps it was guilt.

  


Elizabeth laughs humorlessly, which causes Jack to throw a glance her way. At realizing that she’s caught his attention, she shakes her head to let him know she’s alright. Jack looks wary, but turns his attention away from her, continuing down the tunnel.

  


Elizabeth goes back to her musings, hoping that she isn’t interrupted again.

  


_Perhaps it was guilt,_ she thinks again. She feels the urge to scoff again, but refrains from giving in to it.

  


If it’s guilt that motivates Tenenbaum now, then she and Tenenbaum have some common ground.

  


\-----LINE HERE

  


“Agh.”

  


“What’s wrong?”

  


“The damn thing isn’t working.”

  


“Is it broken?”

  


“No, I don’t think so... hey, you know what might help? If you actually came over here and helped me try to figure this out.”

  


“Ha ha.”

  


“I’m being serious.”

  


“So am I.”

  


Jack grumbles, but doesn’t say anything else. After a few minutes of fumbling, Atlas’s voice comes through the radio.

  


“ _Would you kindly get this thing crafted already? Air’s only getting thinner down here._ ”

  


At hearing the phrase “Would You Kindly,” Elizabeth gasps, keening over. Her right hand flies to her nose, which has already begun to bleed. She knows it’s only a matter of seconds before the visions come…

  


_A man. No, not just a man--the man that’s been her companion for several hours now, the man whose back is currently turned towards her--the man that she’s come to know as a friend._

  


_Wait. A friend...is that what Jack is to her? Someone who can be trusted, who she knows would never hurt her?_

  


_She doesn’t have much time to dwell on her newest revelation--the man’s hands move. They curl and uncurl, becoming blue with the static of Electro Bolt._

  


“ _Would you kindly?”_

  


_The three words echo in her head, loudly--she thinks it’s about to burst._

  


_The image fades, and now the man--Jack--is staring down at something. Elizabeth turns to look and sees a Little Sister gathering ADAM far below them._

  


_She has little time to look, however, as almost as soon as she does, the booming voice of Atlas says, “Would you kindly get this--”_

  


_This image also fades, replaced by an image of Jack swinging his wrench at a Splicer. He takes her down fairly easily, Elizabeth notes with some pride. As soon as the Splicer lies dead, Atlas speaks once more._

  


“ _Would you kindly find that--”_

  


_Jack is electrocuting a Splicer standing in the water._

  


“ _Would you kindly?”_

  


_A Little Sister, crying over her fallen protector._

  


“ _Would you kindly?”_

  


_Arcadia. Visions of it flood her mind now, and she gasps as Atlas’s voice becomes louder and louder as the visions become shorter and shorter._

  


_Suddenly, the flashing images stop, freezing on one image:_

  


_A board. That’s all she sees at first; a big board, covered in papers. There is a picture of Andrew Ryan, she sees--and a thin, red line connects his picture to that of a woman’s. Another string connects both pictures to one below both of them. Elizabeth is startled to realizes it’s Jack, but she doesn’t realize the significance until she’s been staring at it for a few seconds._

  


_Once she does, her eyes widen and she breathes out a “No…”_

  


_She doesn’t have much time for disbelief before Atlas barks out another order._

  


“ _Would you kindly head to Ryan’s office and kill the sonofabitch?”_

  


Slowly, the sounds fade, as do the visions, and Elizabeth is once again standing in Langford’s office.

  


“You okay?” Jack asks. Elizabeth looks around and realizes that he’s moved away from the safe and is at the U-Invent, holding what Elizabeth almost immediately realizes must be the newly-created Lazarus Vector.

  


“Y--yeah,” she manages to say. “I’m fine.”

  


“You sure?” he asks, still not looking at her. She hears the _clunk_ of something heavy hitting the floor, and Elizabeth figures he must be crafting some ammunition of some sort.

  


Elizabeth is still reeling from the shock of the unexpected vision, so when Jack doesn’t hear a response and turns around to find out why, she doesn’t hear his startled gasp or his heavy footsteps as he rushes to her side.

  


“Oh my God,” he breathes. “What the hell happened?”

  


“I’m fine,” she insists. “Really, I’m okay.”

  


“No, you’re not, Liz. Your nose…”

  


Blood is trickling between the cracks in her fingers, she realizes, and her hand has done almost nothing to stop the flow of blood from escaping her nose. She’s so distracted she doesn’t even think to correct Jack on her name.

  


Jack moves to place his hand on top of hers, but at the last minute seems to decide against it. INstead he looks around the room frantically, moving papers and lifting objects and setting them somewhere else. Elizabeth has no idea what the hell he’s doing, but she soon finds out, as he comes back to her and grabs her satchel.

  


“Hey!”

  


Jack isn’t listening, or else he just doesn’t care. A couple of seconds later, he shouts triumphantly as he pulls a first aid kit out of the bag.

  


Oh. Well, duh. Of course.

  


He scrambles to get it open, grab some supplies, and give them to Elizabeth.

  


“Here,” he says, shoving the items into her arms. “Take these. They should help. I’ll be with you in a minute, I’ve got to put the Vector in.”

  


He picks up the Lazarus Vector and heads to the Central Misting Control. He puts the Vector in, and almost immediately it produces a gurgling sound, like it’s broken or something. Jack grins, however.

  


“It’s working, Liz! I think. Is it supposed to make that weird noise?”

  


“ _Yeah, boyo. It’s working, all right. Ah, listen to that damn thing gurgle and crank. How long is it going to take?_ ” Atlas complains.

  


A different voice comes over the radio then; the voice of Andrew Ryan. “ _It seems Julie’s death didn’t provide a clear enough lesson to you. Perhaps this will suffice._ ”

  


“Oh, great. What now?” Jack groans.

  


“ _Ryan’s got your number. No doubt he’ll be sending company. Best to head back to the lab entrance and seal her up...might be the only way to keep the Splicers out._ ”

  


Jack sighs. “Fine. Thanks, Atlas.”

  


“ _No problem, boyo. Now get to work! Those Splicers will be there any minute now._ ”

  


Jack nods and turns to head to the entrance, but then he seemingly remembers that he’s not alone in there. He turns to Elizabeth, who is now scraping dried blood from her face and fingernails.

  


“You’ll be okay in here, right?”

  


“What?”

  


“I need to head to the entrance to seal it off. Will you be okay in here?”

  


“No. No, I’m coming with you!”

  


“Elizabeth, no. You’re still recovering, you’re--”

  


“I’m going. With. You.”

  


“No.”

  


“ _We know you’re in there, hot stuff! Come out and play!_ ”

  


Both Jack and Elizabeth look towards the door.

  


Jack is the first to look away, redirecting his gaze onto his frustrated companion. “Look, just--just hang tight, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.”

  


And with that, he races out of the office, leaving an indignant Elizabeth behind.

  


She stamps her foot angrily, looking around the tiny office before making a decision.

  


“‘Hang tight,’ my ass,” she grumbles. She grabs her shotgun and heads out.

  


\----LINE HERE

  


She gets to the entrance just in time to see Jack trying to fend off one Splicer while being approached from behind by another. Thinking quickly, she loads one shell into her shotgun, aims for the Splicer’s back, and fires. The Splicer falls over, dead.

  


Before Jack can react to her presence, she yells, “Behind you!”

  


Jack swings around just in time to see the second Splicer’s meat hook come crashing down on what would have been his skull had he not moved at the last second. He swings his wrench at his face, knocking him out cold.

  


He then turns to Elizabeth. “I thought I told you to stay in the office.”

  


“I thought I told you I wasn’t going to.”

  


“Liz--”

  


“First of all, it’s Elizabeth. Second of all, I’m not going to stand by while you put yourself in a stupid situation that could very well get you killed.”

  


“Elizabeth--”

  


“Remember when I said you had a tendency to make stupid decisions?”

  


He shuts his mouth, instead electing to put a round of bullets through a Splicer that was trying to sneak past the both of them.

  


\----LINE HERE

Finally, after countless Splicers have been put down and two more Big Daddies (and Little Sisters) have been dealt with, they’re ready to leave.

  


They head to the Rapture Metro in Rolling Hills.

  


\-----LINE HERE

Once they’re safely (or at least, as safe as Rapture can get, anyways) inside the bathysphere, Elizabeth finally has some time to think.

  


So.

  


That was Fontaine’s plan.

  


Con Jack into believing he was a poor freedom fighter who had lost his family in a submarine explosion, then get him to kill Andrew Ryan as “revenge.”

  


Elizabeth has to admit, that was quite a con.

  


She thinks back on what she saw--that board, with the words she so dreaded hearing written in red--whether it was blood or paint, she hadn’t been able to tell. The pictures…

  


She swallows. _Don’t throw up,_ she tells herself sternly. _Don’t throw up._

  


She manages not to, but the thought of what those people have done to him makes her blood boil.

  


Of course, she is one of those people, isn’t she?

  


It was her who had given Atlas the activation code, her who had sealed Jack’s fate. And now she is going to pay the price--again. But it is a much different price this time, she realizes, as she turns her attention towards the man sitting next to her, staring once again. He looks away quickly, but Elizabeth doesn’t comment.

  


What of Jack? Elizabeth knows what Fontaine has in store for him--he’s going to kill Andrew Ryan, and then dispose of him. She knows what has to be done, she knows she cannot stop it--but that does not make her feel any less guilty.

  


Here he is, her companion, her _friend,_ and she is going to let him walk into a trap which will almost certainly kill him.

  


No.

  


She can’t let that happen.

  


_I’m going to tell him,_ she resolves, as the bathysphere docks in Fort Frolic. _I don’t care how much it screws up the future. I’m going to tell him._

  
She’s going to tell him everything.


	7. Some Sort Of A Forced Pun On "Frolic"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, first of all, this chapter is pretty long, and I KNOW that it took me a while to get it up, so I apologize for that in advance. Second, I'd like to thank my friend Jared for helping out with this chapter-I couldn't have done it without him! And third, I'd like to thank all of you for your reviews and your continued support! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Jack moves out of the bathysphere first, holding his hand out for Elizabeth to take. She does so, letting Jack help her out.

"So. Where to now?" she asks, side-eyeing her companion.

Jack shrugs. He repeats the question to Atlas, who says, " _You're almost there. The sphere to Ryan is up on ahead._ "

" _Ryan's handed the keys to Fort Frolic over to a guy named Sander Cohen. Cohen's an artist, says some. He's a Section Eight, says I. I've seen all kinds of cutthroats, freaks, and hard cases in my life, but Cohen, he's a real lunatic, a dyed-in-the-wool psychopath…_ " Atlas continues.

Elizabeth shudders at hearing that name. She remembers Sander Cohen, all right. Those were not pleasant memories.

"I take it you knew the guy," Jack comments, and it's a few seconds before Elizabeth realizes he's talking to her.

"Oh. Yeah….let's just say he's not the best person."

" _Rise, Rapture, rise!_ "

Both of them look at the radio in Jack's hand.

"What the hell…" Jack mutters. He turns some dials and knobs, and the music cuts out.

"That was...weird."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's one word for it."

They wait for a little while, but neither Atlas or Ryan speak through the radio, as they had expected. Instead, it stays silent.

Jack sighs, pocketing the radio and turning to Elizabeth. "I guess we're on our own, then."

"Again. Yay."

-LINE HERE

"What was that?"

"Oh, no. No, no, no."

"What-no. Oh, hell no."

"Someone must have beaten us to it." Elizabeth watches as the bathysphere sinks into the ocean, taking their hopes of escaping with it.

They stand there for what feels like hours, just staring at the empty bathysphere dock.

"We could try summoning another one," Elizabeth suggests, looking for the lever that would do so.

"No, there's no way. The lever is on the other side of the gate, which-" He pulls at the iron bars for emphasis. "-are locked."

"Damn," she curses. "Well then, what now?"

" _Ah, that's better. Atlas, Ryan, Atlas, Ryan, duh duh duh, duh duh duh. Time was, you could get something decent on the radio. The artist has a duty to seduce the ear and delight the spirit, so say goodbye to those two blowhards, and hello to an evening with Sander Cohen!_ "

The radio goes silent, leaving a surprised Jack and an uneasy Elizabeth in its wake.

"Great. Now I've got to deal with him _again._ Just when I thought it couldn't get worse."

"You really don't like him, do you? What's up with that?"

"Just-let's find this guy and make him give us the damn key," she grumbles, before stomping away, leaving Jack no choice but to follow his disgruntled companion out of the metro.

* * *

" _Now, I haven't seen a sign of real life down here in months. Let's see if you're just another Johnny-come-lately, or maybe something more delicious…_ "

"Damn him."

"You keep saying that."

"Who cares?"

"I do. What's up with you? You've been tense since we got here. Real uptight. More than usual, anyways. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. But I'll be better when we're out of this sorry excuse for a theater."

"Yeah, well. Same here. This place is creepy."

On that, at least, they can agree on, Elizabeth thinks.

-LINE HERE

" _Should we stop her?"_

" _We've tried that before, haven't we?"_

" _Not in this universe."_

" _Hm. I suppose you're right. But we have a history with failed experiments, you know."_

" _This isn't a failed experiment."_

" _Again, I suppose you're right."_

" _If she tells the boy everything, who knows what might happen."_

" _What WILL happen. And we do."_

" _But she doesn't."_

" _I think she very well does, she just doesn't care. Selfish, if you ask me."_

" _No one did."_

" _Hm."_

-LINE HERE

"So...I'm sure you're probably wondering why we're heading to Hephaestus in the first place. Right?"

Out of all the ways he could have started that conversation, _that_ was the way he decided to go. Elizabeth mentally shakes her head before turning to look at him.

"Not really, no."

"Go figure. Anyways-"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Anyways-"

"Anyways, we aren't getting out of here until we photograph some dead corpses for a crazy guy, so we'd best get to work."

Jack looks at her with a mixture of irateness and worry. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, you keep saying that. Doesn't make it true, though."

Elizabeth frowns at her friend. "What do you mean?" she asks, though she already knows the answer.

Jack doesn't answer her right away; instead, he simply stares at her. When he does speak, however, it's quiet; so quiet that she almost misses what he says.

"It's just...you know what, nevermind."

"No, tell me. What?"

"You're just…"

"Just…"

"Weird, I guess? I don't know. There's just something off about you. Doesn't add up."

"What doesn't add up?"

"You."

She scoffs indignantly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jack doesn't respond to that, instead fiddling with the camera in his hand while avoiding her gaze.

"No, seriously. What makes you think-"

"I'm not an idiot, you know. Anyways, you're right, we aren't getting out of here if we don't do this thing, so we'd best get to work. There were four until Fitzpatrick, right? Do you think we should split up? I could maybe take down Rodriguez and Cobb while you take down Finnegan."

"Why do I only get one?"

"Well, one of us is going to have to have only one. Okay, so, we'll meet back at the Quadtych. Sound good?"

"Listen, I really don't think this is a good idea."

"If it's me you're worried about, I'll be fine. Honestly, I'm more concerned about you."

Elizabeth frowns, taking her eyes off of Jack and looking around the seemingly abandoned area. She really hates the idea of Jack going off by himself. If he goes off by himself, he could either get himself killed or, worse, Atlas would make a move. She doesn't want to risk it, but right now, it's all they've got. Besides, she reasons, she can't very well say 'no' without him getting suspicious.

And there's another problem. She's got to tell Jack everything. Though she's not so sure how she's going to tell him (and then get him to believe her), she knows that time is running out, and he is _not dying, damnit,_ not if she can help it. She just needs a bit of time; but she knows that time is something she can't afford. If she's going to tell him, she has to do it quickly. She'd rather _not_ see _his_ head cracked open by a wrench. She shudders at the mental image her thoughts provide, suddenly feeling a bit sick.

"Liz!"

The nickname jolts her back to the present, where the first thing she sees is Jack's worried face only inches away from hers. Noting the odd look in his eyes, and realizing that she'd been gone for more than a few seconds, she quickly extracts herself from his strong grip on her arms and says, with as much annoyance as she can muster, "It's Elizabeth. I hate nicknames." In all truth, though she does dislike nicknames, this one is starting to grow on her; but of course, there's no way she's going to tell Jack that.

"Are we splitting up, then?"

Jack raises an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't want to split up."

"I don't. But, if you're going to be this stubborn about it, I might as well go along with it."

* * *

" _Well, we can't just sit here."_

" _And do nothing? Brother, we are doing plenty."_

" _And yet we are doing nothing at all."_

" _I suppose you're right. But what makes you think she'll listen to us?"_

" _What do you mean?"_

" _She didn't the first time."_

" _Hm. Quite right. But, constants and variables. Perhaps this time."_

* * *

Jack really isn't the type to trust someone when he doesn't know who they are or what they want.

So it's kind of surprising that he's trusting _her._

Granted, it's a sort of free-for-all down here in this hellhole, and she's the only other sane person (at least, as far as he knows) down here, so really, her tagging along was never a choice.

That doesn't mean he has to trust her, though.

But he does. For some reason.

She's weird, though-sometimes, she'll look at him funny, like she knows something isn't quite right with him. Sometimes she'll mumble to herself about "constants and variables"-though when Jack asks her what that means, she just shrugs and busies herself with other things. Sometimes she'll say or do things that make no sense-and when asked about them, she ignores him. It's annoying and intriguing at the same time.

He gets the feeling that she's lying to him, though-and maybe she is. She certainly doesn't seem like a prim and proper woman who's had a stroke of bad luck and wound up in a power-hungry dystopia. She's far too knowledgeable about the usage of weapons and close combat, and she's far too calm for someone who should be freaking out over their current situation. Something just doesn't add up about her-and Jack doesn't know what, but he's going to find out.

He slows his footsteps as he approaches the entrance to Rapture Records, hearing a delusional Splicer complaining about the song playing inside. Jack takes a moment to ready himself before stepping inside.

* * *

Martin Finnegan. Elizabeth remembers the man well-but she wishes she didn't. The guy was a total sleazeball, spending every spare moment he had trying to get underneath her skirt. She had always turned down his advances, of course, but he could take a hint about as well as he could dance a waltz. She had practically rejoiced leaving his company when she was able to retire from Sander Cohen's employ after finding Sally's whereabouts. At the time, she had thought that that was the last she would ever see of any of Cohen's disciples-and yet here she now was, forced to track down the damn creep-and under Cohen's orders yet again. She groaned as the memories rose to the surface of her mind, none of them pleasant.

"God, it's freezing in here," Elizabeth complains to no one in particular. "Out of all of the places he could have gone…" she grumbles.

Her high heels click ominously against the icy floor of Poseidon's Plaza as she makes her way to Martin Finnegan, her crossbow loaded and ready in front of her.

She stops when she sees the dead body hanging-no, frozen-frozen on the ceiling. She swallows and looks away, noticing an Audio Diary next to the corpse. First looking around to make sure that no one is going to get the jump on her, she presses play.

" _You think you gonna finish me in here, you old fruit? The other saps you tossed in this meat locker all panicked like rabbits. I just watched and waited. And when they started to kick, I started to scavenge. Made myself a little Splicer cocktail, I did. If you can't come in from the cold, then you gotta grow ice over your heart. And the iceman cometh, Sander baby. The iceman fucking cometh._ "

The recording cuts out then, leaving Elizabeth to ponder exactly who the hell that was. She turns the audio diary over in her hands and reads the name _Martin Finnegan_ scribbled neatly on the back.

She kneels down and places the Diary on the floor before heading down the tunnel once more, making sure to avoid being hit in the face by the poor woman who'd become a permanent fixture to Rapture's architecture.

She moves cautiously down the hallway, making sure to listen for any sign of movement that didn't come from her. As she steps through the door, she nearly slips and falls on her face, but manages to catch herself at the last second. As she's getting up, her heart immediately seizes in fear at what she sees.

Splicers.

On each side of the small hall, there are Splicers. Elizabeth readies her weapon, ready to fire, until she realizes that they're all frozen. Taking cautious steps, she makes her way down the hall, looking all around at the various poses that the Splicers have found themselves in.

For some reason, she feels the urge to linger here-never a good thing in a place like Rapture, where enemies lurk around every corner, waiting for their victims to make a faux pas. Ignoring the feeling, she continues down the hall, looking all around her at the numerous displays of living "art," as she knows her former employer would call it. She wonders, briefly, if they are still alive, still aware beneath the shell of ice that imprisons them. As she passes yet another, she stops suddenly, a chill running down her back that has nothing to do with the temperature. Could she be next?

The hairs on the back of her neck rise almost immediately in response, and Elizabeth barely has time to turn around before she's face-to-masked-face with the one person she least wanted to see.

"Hello, Songbird," he coos, just before Elizabeth feels the sharp pinpricks of cold slowly beginning to spread from the surface of her skin. She stares in horror as she watches the ice creep up her arms and cover her torso. Realizing too late what is happening, she tries to make a run for it-only to look down and see that she's been handicapped. She barely has enough time to look back up at Finnegan before she freezes completely.

* * *

 _In hindsight,_ Jack thinks, as he just barely manages to dodge a flaming ball thrown his way, _it might have been a better idea to come with backup._

He'd seriously underestimated the tall, lanky figure standing in the corner of the room, waiting for him to come near. Jack had foolishly thought that this would be easy-a quick bullet to the head and, boom, he's down. But no-some higher power was determined to make this as hard for him as possible. As he ducks behind an overturned desk to avoid being roasted alive, he checks to make sure his machine gun is loaded before he opens fire on Silas Cobb.

Cobb, of course, being the sly bastard that Jack has come to know him as (in the ten minutes that they've been "acquainted"), dodges nearly all of his shots, lobbing another fireball in Jack's general direction. Although Jack does dodge it, it sets the desk he's been using as cover on fire, so he has to find more cover pretty quickly.

Cobb's demented laughter as the desk is engulfed in flames gives Jack just enough time to grab a nearby crossbow bolt and load it into his empty weapon. As he prepares his shot, his thoughts drift to Elizabeth, and he finds himself hoping that Elizabeth somehow got the better end of the deal.

* * *

"Guess the old grape finally sent someone. Sonofabitch...left me to freeze...oh, I've got a pose all picked out for you…"

It's freezing. Oh, God, it's freezing. Her face, her hands, her entire body-it's all frozen, covered in ice, and Elizabeth can't move, can't do a thing about it. All she can do is listen to the madman in front of her as he drones on about-

"-I gotta tell you, sweetheart, I didn't think I'd see that pretty face of yours ever again," he says, which catches Elizabeth's attention at once. "The old kook all but forgot about you after you bailed, but not me...oh, I remembered. I think...we all remember you…"

And with that, Finnegan waves his hand and Elizabeth is covered in a fresh layer of ice.

* * *

It's cold.

That's the first thing she notices.

The second is that she's not dead.

She's not frozen anymore, either-Finnegan's Plasmid must have worn off. Glancing around, she can see that some of the other Splicers have started to defrost as well-which is not a good thing. Checking to see if Finnegan had been smart enough to take away all of her weapons-and thank the Lord above, he hadn't been-she quickly grabs her crossbow and takes the thawing Splicers out, one by one.

"Well, that was easier than it should have been," Elizabeth mutters to herself, searching the last defrosted corpse for ammo.

She stops when she hears the crunching of boots on ice behind her. She holds her breath, not daring to move as the figure moves closer, muttering under his breath.

Slowly, she lifts her left hand to the crossbow, notching in the ammo and cocking it quietly. As the crunching of footsteps grows closer, they suddenly stop.

Elizabeth whips around, weapon at the ready, but there are only statues behind her.

"The hell…" she murmurs, right before she hears a demented scream.

Startled, she accidentally fires her crossbow, sending the bolt somewhere beyond her line of sight.

Cursing, she reloads it quickly, and takes another look around. All she sees, however, are the still, unmoving figures of the fortunately still-frozen Splicers before her.

Wait a second.

Maybe not all of them...

Finnegan may be mad, but she knew he still had a sick sense of creativity. She'd bet anything that one of the "statues" _was_ him.

Taking a deep breath, she scours the area, looking for any telltale signs of Finnegan. She hadn't been able to get a decent look at him through the ice. But maybe the good old-fashioned process of elimination would work...

Before she can train her crossbow on her first target, she hears the loud and sharp snap of fingers.

Elizabeth dives out of the way as the space behind her ignites into flames, instantly melting the ice frozen against the wall, and the ice encasing two Splicers. One of the far statues suddenly moves and begins walking towards her, revealing himself to be Finnegan. He catches sight of her and grins.

"Hello, sweetie!" he screams, and with that, he locks onto her and extends a hand. Before he can move, one of the unfrozen Splicers suddenly lunges at him with a vengeful scream.

Catching him off guard, the Splicer manages to get a good swipe at him before he disappears in a flash of red to the other side of the room. Meanwhile, the second Splicer gets up right in front of Elizabeth, and looks directly at her.

She tenses, and prepares for fire, but the Splicer looks away and shouts towards the direction of Finnegan, leaving Elizabeth and joining the other.

"Guess I'm not the only one with a grudge," she says beneath her breath, the corner of her mouth twitching up a bit.

As she runs over to the other side of the room, careful not to slip on the ice, Finnegan appears to throw off his attackers, not even bothering to set them in a pose.

Growling, he throws a hand out towards Elizabeth, who quickly throws herself to the side to avoid being set on fire. It's only as she starts to get up that she realizes she wasn't completely successful-the hem of her skirt is flaming, and the fire is quickly spreading.

_Oh, crap._

That old feeling is coming back into her chest, which freaks her out even more. She closes her eyes and thinks for a second, trying to ignore that particular feeling of impending doom.

_Books._

_Think about your books. What did your books say about fires?_

Well, her books had said all kinds of things about them. One thing in particular, however, stands out in her mind.

" _There is, of course, more than one way to put out a fire. Dry ice dumped on a fir will quickly turn to carbon dioxide gas. This is good, because fires need oxygen to continue. Flooding a room with dry ice will surely put out a massive fire, but for a small one it's best to just put a little bit on it. However, it is not a good idea to do so in large, open spaces._ "

Alright. Dry ice. Where can she get dry ice?

She looks at her hand.

Charging up her Plasmid, she draws her hand back and fires Old Man Winter at the small fire inching up her skirt. It almost immediately dies down, allowing Elizabeth to get up, brush herself off, and aim her crossbow at Finnegan's head.

She fires.

She misses.

She does get his attention, though.

He turns to look at her and screams, sending another fire her way. She ducks behind a pillar and barely has enough time to reload before she has to move to avoid being set on fire again.

"Stay still!" Finnegan yells, "This is no way to treat an old friend!"

Crouching behind a large lump of ice leaning against the wall, she prepares for another shot. This time, she takes a breath, listening to where Finnegan had launched the assault. Counting to three in her head, she makes sure she has a good grip on the crossbow.

Gathering herself, she jumps out from behind the mound of ice and fires again. She doesn't hit his head, but she does hit him clean in the shoulder.

He gives a loud yell, flailing his arms for a bit as her shot embeds itself into his icy skin. Elizabeth knows he took damage from the Splicers' assault, and must be near the breaking point.

But as she steps forward to finish him off, she finds that one of her foot won't leave the ground. She nearly stumbles, looking down to see her left foot being slowly encased in ice, mid-step. Then ice begins to creep up her right foot in front as well.

_No, no, no…._

Halted in place, she looks up at Finnegan, who had activated his Plasmid and is now convulsing violently—no, wait. He's _laughing_ at her. Elizabeth feels her face go hot despite the cold temperature.

"You can't fly away this time, little Songbird," he cackles, watching her internal panic with a grin on his grotesquely disfigured face.

The ice is reaching her torso.

Her heartbeat rises as she reloads, taking advantage of the seconds she had left of free arm movement. Then she lifts up the crossbow at Finnegan as he laughs and laughs, his body shaking.

She fires, praying for a miracle.

It happens so fast, she nearly misses it-but she watches with a hint of delight as Finnegan's cackling finally stops, his corpse slumping to the floor. The shaft of Elizabeth's arrow sticks straight out the front of his mask.

The ice stops as it reaches her neck, shattering instantly and Elizabeth exhales gratefully. Unfortunately, as she soon discovers, the ice containing the rest of the Splicers had also broken apart, leaving the final two unshattered Splicers free.

"Ah, _crap…_ " Elizabeth mutters, raising her crossbow again before they can come to their senses. She picks off one of them fairly easily, but the second recovers fast enough to whirl around and face her. With an angry yell, the Splicer charges, but through backpedaling as she reloads, Elizabeth takes it down as well, before it can even lay a hand on her. They both seem like child's play compared to Finnegan.

Finnegan…

Elizabeth makes her way to the man's body over the remains of shattered Splicers. Wordlessly, she takes out the camera she had found earlier and snaps a photo of his corpse.

Almost at once, a soft voice coos, "Yes. Now put the picture in the frame, my dear Songbird. Let's see what we've got here…"

"Don't call me that," she snaps immediately. "I am _not_ your Songbird. Not anymore, anyways."

"Why do you deny such exquisite art, my dear? Like the flame that draws the moth, you shone above all the rest. You were my favorite, I think...you would have done quite well as my one, true disciple…"

"I'm not interested," Elizabeth growls. She's really getting tired of his bullshit. "My friend and I are getting you your damn photos, and then we're leaving. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly. But perhaps...you need to be reminded..."

"Of what?"

But the radio doesn't answer.

* * *

" _He was a nasty one...and my second favorite one. I think I like him better this way. Take his damn photo! Chop chop!_ "

* * *

Eve's Garden was a pigsty.

Bottles littered the stained floors, chairs were overturned, and a few corpses were strewn across the area around the stage.

Jack shuddered.

After looting the corpses for ammo and EVE (and thoroughly checking the place for any sign of Rodriguez), he heads to the stage, pondering whether he should check out the private rooms or wait out here for Rodriguez to show his ugly mug.

Deciding that scouring the whole place is the best idea, he climbs onto the stage, trying his hardest to ignore the suddenly strong odor of alcohol and sweat.

His vision blurs suddenly, and it isn't until he whips around to find himself face-to-face with a transparent woman that he sees why.

" _Well, if it isn't the long-lost Andrew Ryan,_ " the ghostly figure murmurs in a seductive tone. " _Mm, mm, mm, come here, tiger…_ "

He watches as the woman turns and struts down the hallway behind the stage, curling a finger in his direction as if to beckon him closer. Jack follows, mystified.

" _I thought you had forgotten about poor Jasmine,_ " the woman continues, continuing down the hall. " _But I am so glad you didn't._ "

She walks through the closed door at the end of the hall, and Jack's vision goes back to normal. God, he's starting to get a headache from all this stuff. He's about to open the door when he hears the woman once more.

" _I'm sorry, Mr. Ryan, I didn't know…_ "

Gone was the low, seductive tone of the woman's voice. Gone was the easiness with which she had spoken only moments before. The tone with which she now spoke was filled with fear and sorrow-as Jack listens to her speak, he hears the panic in her voice growing as she pleads with Ryan, how she begs for his forgiveness. Somehow, Jack knows what's going to happen before it does.

" _I didn't know Fontaine had something to do with it, I-wha-what are you doing? No! No, don't please! I loved you, don't, don't, please, no, no!_ "

The woman screams, and Jack winces. Even though he knows that it's too late now, that's she's long gone, he can't help but feel like bursting through the door and saving her.

He opens the door, and immediately he sees the image of his mother in one of their family photos. The complete unexpectedness of it sends him reeling, but he quickly recovers, shaking his head to dispel the splitting headache he now has.

There's not much here, he soon realizes, except for a safe and a body on the bed, whom Jack takes to be Jasmine. He wonders if she's this "Jasmine Jolene" that he's been seeing on posters everywhere.

He suddenly notices the Jasmine Jolene poster above the bed.

 _Guess so,_ he thinks to himself.

He looks at the corpse on the bed again, frowning.

Who was this woman to Ryan? And why on earth would he kill her?

He sighs, looking around the room as if all of the answers are right there. There aren't any, though-at least, not in here. In other parts of Rapture, perhaps-but Jack doesn't have the luxury of exploring the whole damn city right now. He knows that he should keep moving, but something is keeping him here.

He looks at the woman's corpse again.

Her face, Jack can tell, was beautiful once-although he doesn't know what it might have looked like. Her skin is a sickly green color, and her clothes are covered in blood-no doubt from the likely beating that Ryan had bestowed upon her. Her nails are chipped, and her face is obscured by the stringy mat that was once her hair. Her mouth lay open, slack from the scream Jack had heard from the ghostly event, her eyes rolled back in her head behind her half-open pupils. Her body lay in a limp and unnatural position on the mattress, which was still stained dark red. Her right forearm lay strewn over her forehead, likely unmoved since the moment of her death—no. Since the moment of her murder.

By Andrew Ryan.

The stories about that man just keep getting better and better…

Despite it all, Jack can't help but feel that maybe he should do something about her now. Granted, he can't very well go back in time and save her-but perhaps…

Perhaps he can do something else.

He's suddenly distracted from his current train of thought by noises coming from outside. Looking at the woman one last time, he sighs, resolving to come back before cocking his shotgun and heading to investigate.

* * *

An hour.

That's how long she's been waiting for that damn man.

She wonders if it's actually been an hour, or if she's just so impatient that it only _feels_ like it.

"Where the hell is he?" she asks the wall.

The wall, obviously, doesn't respond. Elizabeth is a bit concerned that she sort of expected it to.

She sighs.

"Well, if he won't come to me, then I guess I'll have to go to him," she grumbles. "Where did he say he was going? Eve's Garden, right," she reminds herself. She takes out her pistol and makes sure it's loaded before heading off in the direction of the strip club, praying to a God that she really doesn't believe in that Jack is alive, or at least not dead.

 _Actually, not dead is better than nothing,_ she decides.

* * *

" _There's no hope for her, is there?_ "

" _What makes you say that?_ "

" _This whole experiment. It's going to fail._ "

" _I thought you were supposed to be the optimistic one. And weren't you the one who said this wasn't a failed experiment?_ "

" _I am, and I did. But there's no point in pretending that everything is going to work out for her, and there's certainly no point in still having hope in the experiment._ "

" _Hm. I suppose you're right. Still, though, we have done our part. There's not much else we can do._ "

" _My dear brother, things get set in motion. The boy will fulfill his 'destiny', however silly that may sound-and the girl…_ "

" _Perhaps it's time we did one thing more?_ "

" _Hm. Perhaps._ "

* * *

"'Jack, we need to talk.' Wait, no, that's not right. Hm...okay, how about, 'Jack, Atlas isn't who he says who he is.' Ugh, that's even _worse._ Okay, just...play it cool. Play it cool. God, why is telling the truth so _hard?_ "

" _...Fly the ocean in a silver plane…_ "

At hearing her own voice drift through the halls of Rapture, she stops in her tracks.

That can't be right...

" _...See the jungle when it's wet with rain._ "

Oh.

" _Just remember, 'till you're home again…_ "

She shuts her eyes, hoping that the song is almost over.

" _You belong to me…_ "

It's over. Elizabeth breathes a sigh of relief, looking up at one of the radios on the wall.

"So that's what he meant, "she says to herself.

That's what Cohen had meant when he'd said that she needed to be reminded. He no doubt thought that she'd forgotten how "great" it was working under him, and probably thought that if she heard one of her songs, she'd come crawling back to him, begging to be a part of one of his "masterpieces." She makes a face at the idea, repulsed by the very notion.

With the song over, the halls of the forgotten city are eerily quiet, something that makes Elizabeth extremely nervous. She almost wishes that the song would return.

Almost.

* * *

She finally finds him ten minutes later in one of the back rooms of Eve's Garden, building-something. She's not sure what. When asked, he merely shrugs and holds out a piece of wood, taken from the floor.

Elizabeth helps him build what she realizes is a funeral pyre-but for who, she doesn't know. Jack isn't talking right now, and Elizabeth wonders if maybe he'd somehow become mute since the last time they spoke. It would certainly explain why he hadn't answered his radio.

"Jack?"

He looks up.

"What are we doing?"

He looks at the pyre. "What do you mean?" he finally asks.

 _Well, what do you know. He can still speak, after all._ "I mean, why are we building a funeral pyre?"

"Oh."

He doesn't say anything else for a while.

Elizabeth, realizing that she's not going to get anything out of him until they're done, doesn't speak, either.

* * *

He watches as the flames rise up, up, up into the air. They dance and lick at the wood pyre the corpse was placed upon, illuminating both of their features. He turns to Elizabeth, only to find that, for once, she isn't looking at him-rather, she seems transfixed by the stranger burning on the pyre.

The flames light up the tiny space, and allow Jack to get his first good look at his companion. He hadn't had much time for staring, back in the pandemonium that was the rest of Fort Frolic-but now, when there's nothing trying to kill them, no Atlas or Ryan or even Cohen to ruin it, he can stare as long as he wants.

The firelight makes her face look haunting. The shadows make her cheekbones seem deep and hollow, casting a dark shade over her eyes and making her fair skin seem deathly pale. Her long, brown hair frames her face, making it, with her faint blush and red lips, look more like a delicate theater mask than anything else. Her blue eyes are transfixed on the burning corpse of the woman, seemingly cold and distant. Jack can imagine why she's feeling that way-she doesn't know this woman, doesn't know what Ryan did to her-all she knows is that they've taken precious time to do this for her, time they could have used to get out of here.

"Ryan," he says, but immediately realizes that that's not enough when she looks at him curiously.

"What?"

"Ryan," he repeats, not knowing what else to say.

She makes a face at the name, turning back to the pyre. "What about him?"

"He did this to her."

That gets her attention. She turns to look at him fully now, making Jack nervous. He's always nervous when she looks at him-he thinks, briefly, that maybe it has something to do with the weird feeling in his stomach.

"What do you mean, he did this to her? Who is she?"

"Her name is Jasmine Jolene, I think. She...did something to make him mad. I don't know what. And he killed her for it."

She's staring at him strangely now. "How do you know all that?"

He taps his head as if that will answer her question. When he sees the look on her face, however, he says quickly, "Ghosts."

Elizabeth nods, seeming to understand. "But why are you doing this for her, out of all people? That doesn't make any sense. You don't even know her."

Jack shrugs. "I know, but...I don't know. It just...felt right, somehow."

"It felt...right."

"Yeah."

They're both silent for a while before Jack speaks again. "We have to stop him, Elizabeth. No matter what it takes."

Elizabeth hums. Jack's not sure if it's a noise of acceptance or disappointment.

He doesn't want to find out.

* * *

"That...was not there before."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm positive."

"How do you know that you just didn't notice it before?"

"Because I would have torn it down."

Jack squints, looking at the poster for a moment before his eyes widen and he turns to Elizabeth. "Is...is that _you?_ "

Elizabeth huffs impatiently. "Does it _matter?_ If you've forgotten, we're kind of in the middle of something here, Jack."

He turns to face her fully now, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "You said you were on that plane with me."

 _Crap. Crap crap crap._ "What?"

"When we first met, you said that you were on the same plane as me. If that's true, then why is your face plastered on that poster?"

_Think, think, think. Damnit, think! You can do this, you can do this…_

She actually looks at the poster this time, noting that her name is scratched out. Thinking quickly (which is hard to do while having a panic attack), she tilts her head and says as casually as she can, "Oh. That's where she went."

"What?"

"I had a twin sister," she lies. "On the surface. She...disappeared a few years ago. Never found out where she went, but...well,, now I know."

Her gut twists unpleasantly at the lie-damn it, she's supposed to be telling him the truth. Why wasn't she telling him the truth?

Jack looks from her to the poster and back again, looking not quite convinced, but nodding all the same. "Okay. That makes sense, I guess. What was her name?"

"Anna," she replies without thinking. As soon as the name is out of her mouth, however, she sombers.

That little white lie must have finally won him over, because his face softens and he gives her a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I've already come to terms with it."

She looks at the poster again,, resisting the urge to tear the damn thing off of the wall and burn it.

Jack seems to notice her uneasiness. He gently touches her shoulder and says, "We should keep moving. Come on."

* * *

" _Have you remembered, my little Songbird?_ " Cohen coos, startling Elizabeth and causing her to bump into a plaster statue.

She checks to make sure that Jack is still busy at the vending machine before bothering to answer Cohen.

"I am _not_ your Songbird, Cohen. I'm not your _anything._ "

" _Why do you deny such musical genius, child?_ "

"I don't. It's your fanatic nature and twisted sense of 'art' that I can't stand."

" _Oh, but your talents would have gone unnoticed if not for me. The world out there is cruel and unforgiving, as I'm sure you've seen first-hand. Why not live out the rest of your days in the spotlight?_ "

"Under _your_ spotlight, you mean. And no thanks. I've seen your spotlight, Cohen. And I'd rather not stand underneath it again."

"Liz?"

Elizabeth turns to see Jack staring at her from where he is next to the vending machine, looking worried. "Are you talking to Cohen?"

"Yes."

"What's he saying?"

"He's-"

" _My dear Songbird-_ "

"I am _not_ your Songbird!" she yells at the radio, startling both herself and Jack.

She suddenly realizes what she just said, and adds, loud enough for Jack to hear, "I'm not my sister. Leave me alone."

" _What?_ " Cohen sputters over the radio, clearly confused. " _What on earth are you-_ "

Elizabeth switches the radio off angrily.

Jack walks over to Elizabeth then, looking at her questioningly. "What the hell was that?"

"Nothing," she says dismissively, "… Cohen just thinks I can replace my sister."

"Ah."

The gut-wrenching feeling is back. He believed her so easily-he _trusted_ her and she-

"...Should we get going, then? The Rapture Metro is open again. We-"

"Yeah," Elizabeth says, nodding. "Yeah, we should-"

"Go," Jack finishes for her. He nods too. "Yeah, we probably should. Nothing left for us here, except-"

Jack's radio crackles to life at that precise moment, cutting off what Jack is about to say. The angry voice of Atlas shouts, " _What happened to you? I've been trying to raise you for a dog's age. Never mind. Would you kindly leg it over to the 'sphere and head to Hephaestus? It's time to settle up with Ryan._ "


	8. An Unexpected Visit

“ _ Do you really think this is going to work? _ ”

 

“ _ No. _ ”

 

“ _ Then why bother? _ ”

 

“ _ Well, we won’t know if we don’t try. _ ”

 

“ _ Have you forgotten our current state, brother? Of course we can know without trying. _ ”

 

“ _ Well, yes, but if she tells the boy everything-- _ ”

 

“ _Ah. I see what you mean now._ _The boy won’t fulfill his ‘destiny’._ ”

 

“ _ The future as we’ve seen it won’t happen. _ ”

 

“ _ And the girl-- _ ”

 

 

\------LINE HERE

 

 

The ride to Hephaestus offers another rare moment of quiet as the Bathysphere propels quietly through the water within Rapture. Neither Jack or Elizabeth speak on the way, both caught up in their own thoughts.  

 

They face away from each other this time, looking out opposite ends of the viewport. In the silence, Jack’s thoughts turn to Elizabeth, as they always seemed to be lately. 

 

Though, this time, he feels wary.

 

The poster.

 

Something had been off about her explanation. It was possible, yet… he knew she was keeping something from him. He doesn’t remember her from the crash… but then again, his memory has been more than fuzzy since then. Was it possible she wasn’t on the plane with him? Why would she lie about it? How much of what she’s told him already had been a lie?

 

He had been brushing it off for this long. Something about her makes it feel like he  _ can  _ trust her, like she genuinely doesn’t mean him harm. He still sees her as his friend. But he can’t shake the feeling that she had lied.

 

He wonders if he should confront her about it. She’d probably lie again, though. Or worse, she might have already been telling the truth, and he will have accused the only friend (besides Atlas, of course) he had down here.

 

No.

 

It was too big a risk to take. It probably didn’t matter much anyway. If she had it out for him, he’d have been dead ages ago. He is just going to have to trust her.

 

And despite having every reason not to, he does.

 

\-----LINE HERE

 

Meanwhile, Elizabeth is occupied with other thoughts.

 

Such as,  _ Stop being a baby and tell him before you reach Hephaestus. _

 

Damnit, she’s trying.

 

But telling the truth is a lot harder than she remembered. Maybe because she hadn’t stacked on so many lies beforehand. And he was her friend. 

 

He’s the Ace in the Hole. She had given him to Fontaine. 

 

How could she keep that from him?

 

Simple.

 

She couldn’t.

 

She had to tell him--she had to--

 

Suddenly, the bathysphere rocks, knocking both of them out of their thoughts.

 

Jack jumps, clearly startled.

 

“What--” he begins, but then seems to remember where they are.

 

“Shall we get going, then?” Elizabeth asks uneasily.

 

Jack nods. “Yeah. Let’s get this over with.”

 

 

\-----LINE HERE

 

_ “Watch yourself. Ryan’s stirrin’. We’d best keep to our knittin’.” _

 

Atlas’s voice crackles from the radio as Elizabeth and Jack head up the steps of the empty room, enormous metal gears thrumming from either side. 

 

Once they reach the top, Elizabeth stops and admires a small model of early Rapture, the plaque beneath it reading  _ Rapture, Nov 5 1946. One Man’s Vision. Mankind’s Salvation.  _ Meanwhile, Jack inspects the corpse resting against it.

 

_ “It’s time to either run the table, or go home empty. Ryan’s got the genetic key to Rapture, we get that from him and we get out of this hellhole. We don’t… then we’re all ghosts. Now, would you kindly head to Ryan’s office, and kill the sonofabitch? It’s time to finish this. _ ”

 

Elizabeth shudders as she hears Atlas utter those three words, though Jack doesn’t seem fazed. He immediately stops rifling through the corpse’s pockets and looks around, ignoring everything else.

 

Elizabeth’s gut clenches unpleasantly, her stomach churning.

 

“Hey, Jack?”

 

Jack turns to her.

 

“Uh--we need to talk.”

 

“Later,” he says, before turning away and heading through the door.

 

As the large, automatic door closes behind him, Elizabeth can’t help but feel an impending sense of doom.

 

\------LINE HERE

 

“ _ If we are to go through with this plan, then we must act quickly, Robert. I fear that, like her, we don’t have much time. _ ”

 

_ Robert hums. _ “ _ I suppose you’re right. _ ”

 

“ _ Well, then. Why are we still here when we should be there? _ ”

 

\-------LINE HERE

 

Jack had hardly spoken on the way there. He had mowed down the Splicers and security drones, barely breathing a word to Elizabeth. As they walk through another doorway, she racks her brain for something to say. Anything to lead her into what he needs to know, and force herself into telling the truth.

 

“...Jack?” Elizabeth speaks up, but her nervous voice is barely audible. As she clears her throat to try again, Jack finally speaks, ahead of her.

 

“...Oh no.”

 

Startled, Elizabeth looks up at Jack, who had stopped after the next door slid open. 

 

“What?” she asks, in her surprise, forgetting her plan to say something.

 

He swallows, emotion finally seeming to creep back into his face. 

 

Elizabeth follows his gaze, and immediately inhales sharply at the sight. 

 

Ahead of them, six rows of lights illuminate six corpses hanging from iron spokes suspended high in the air, three on each side of the room, the spokes plunging into each of their chests. In the center is a large bronze fountain of Andrew Ryan.

 

Jack slowly steps forward, and Elizabeth follows.

 

“...What do you think happened to them?” she muses behind him, looking up at each of the old, dried, hanging bodies.

 

“I don’t know,” Jack replies, then tilts his head as he notices an audio diary in the pocket of farthest right corpse, “...But this might be able to tell us.”

 

He reaches up and plucks out the audio diary. 

 

“I remember this name,” he realizes, looking at the name inscribed on the back, “I found a few of her other diaries.”

 

He pushes play, and the woman’s voice crackles through.

 

_ “I had to go jungle-style with that filthy ape for three weeks, but he finally spilled the beans on how to get to Andrew Ryan.  _ _ Generate a sympathetic overload in Harmonic Cor #3. _ _ That's simple. Now all I gotta do is figure out what the hell a sympathetic overload is, and for that matter, a Harmonic Core #3! Piece of cake for an electrical engineer. Too bad I design lady's shoes. Gonna go see the grease monkeys left alive in  Heat Loss Monitoring, s _ _ ee what I can shake out of their trees.” _

 

As the diary ends, Jack looks up at the woman’s corpse one last time. “Thanks… Anya.”

 

He turns to Elizabeth, “This is it, this is how we’ll get to Ryan. The Harmonic Core #3. I’ll bet he’s the one who killed Anya for finding this out. All of them. But this is perfect, once we find our way in, we can finally end—”

 

He falters when he notices Elizabeth’s expression, as if she were almost disappointed.

 

“...Liz? Are you--”

 

“It’s Elizabeth,” she states coldly. “And yes, I’m fine. Let’s just…” she bites her lip, looking away from Jack. She sighs. “Let’s just get this over with.”

 

\-----LINE HERE

 

“What happened to the lights?”

 

“Does it look like I know?”

  
“I can’t even  _ see _ you, Liz.”

 

“It’s Elizabeth. And shhh!”

 

The lights flicker back on, revealing everything to be the same as it was before.

 

“What the hell just happened?”

 

“It’s a trap. Someone’s about to get the jump on us.”

 

At this, Jack looks around anxiously. “Ah. That...that explains it, then.”

 

“Look around for anything out of the ordinary. Maybe a missing body, a weapon, anything like that.”

 

Jack nods.

 

The two begin their search, but find nothing missing in the room between the enormous bronze gears turning within their supports.

 

Jack even counts the bodies, but he can’t remember if there were five before. 

 

“Anything?” He asks Elizabeth, but she shakes her head. “Okay… then I guess—”

 

The lights shut off again with a clang. 

 

“Agh,  _ crap. _ ” Jack shouts, “Liz, are you still there?”

 

“I’m here. And it’s Elizabeth,” her voice declares. It comes through the darkness, followed by a loud crash.

 

“Crap, what happened? Did you trip?” Jack asks.

 

“Uh… that wasn’t me.”

 

“...Oh …Then—”

 

The lights suddenly come back on, revealing some sort of pressure canisters rolling across the floor towards Elizabeth.

 

“Um…” Jack manages.

 

“Be on your guard,” Elizabeth says, taking out her crossbow.

 

“Like I’m not already,” Jack grumbles, pulling out his own weapon, “Notice anything different?”

 

“No,” Elizabeth quickly scans the room as they move forwards. “Same six corpses.”

 

“Five,” Jack corrects.

 

“No, six,” Elizabeth says, “Count them.”

 

“I did, just before the lights went out. There’s only five.”

 

“Well, clearly, you didn’t. Unless—”

 

Elizabeth falters, and Jack stops. Together, they peer at the bloodied corpses on the ground.

 

_ “HOOOOARRGHGHGHH!!” _

 

The corpses suddenly get to their feet and lunge towards Jack and Elizabeth.

 

“ _Mother_ —” Jack nearly jumps clean out of his skin, madly slamming on the trigger of his gun.

 

“Goddamnit,” Elizabeth shouts, barely getting her shotgun out in time to shoot one of the Splicers in the face. She winced as his head exploded and blood got all over her face.

 

“Holy  _ shit, _ ” Jack gasps as he turns to Elizabeth. “How the  _ hell  _ did you do that?!”

 

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth confesses as she pumps a pistol round in another Splicer.

 

“Well however you did it, you’d better do it again,” Jack grunts as he slams the butt of his shotgun into a Leadhead Splicer’s face, causing the offending Splicer to reel back. Jack grins. “What, did we interrupt your nap?”

 

Elizabeth rolls her eyes, trying not to smile at his cheesiness and at the same time trying to ignore the by now familiar feeling in her chest.

 

The last Splicer hits the floor, assuredly dead this time.

 

“You know, these encounters are almost fun after a while,” Jack says, after a moment.

 

“Really?” Elizabeth raises an eyebrow.

 

“Hey, I said almost.”

 

Elizabeth smirks. “Good to know,” she mumbles.

 

“Well… once we get the genetic key, we’ll never have to worry about these Splicers again. We just need to head to Ryan’s office and--”

 

Elizabeth nods, swallowing nervously. “Right. Um, about that, Jack--there's something I need to tell you.”

 

She expects him to ignore her, honestly--brush her off like last time, not willing to listen until it's too late.  _ No,  _ she reminds herself.  _ It's not too late. We haven't gotten to Ryan yet, there's still time-- _

 

“What is it, Liz?”

 

The nickname brings her back to the present moment--Jack is staring at her expectantly. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she says, “First of all, it's Elizabeth. Second--”

 

“ _ Are you almost there, boyo? Remember, time’s a-wastin’. Every second we lose our edge on Ryan.” _

 

Elizabeth resists the urge to scream.  _ Every damn time,  _ she thinks furiously.  _ Every goddamn time! _

 

“We’re getting there, Atlas,” Jack says, sounding as irritated as Elizabeth feels.

 

“ _ You'd better. Ryan won't wait for us forever. _ ”

 

The radio is silent once more, leaving both Jack and Elizabeth in an awkward silence.

 

Jack breaks it by clearing his throat and saying, “So, erm. What were you saying?”

 

Oh.

 

“I--I was  _ saying  _ that--”

 

“Don’t you dare.”

 

Elizabeth jumps at the newest addition to their conversation. She whirls around and comes face-to-face with a smartly-dressed woman with a tan coat and ginger hair.

 

“M--madame Lutece?” she stutters.

 

The female Lutece nods. “And my brother. I assume you remember him?”

 

Elizabeth looks at Robert, who nods, bowing a bit. “Elizabeth.”

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“We’re here to stop you,” Rosalind says plainly, peering over Elizabeth’s shoulder at Jack. “He’s rather small, isn’t he, brother? Not at all what I expected.”

 

Elizabeth, following Rosalind’s line of sight, turns around, and sees Jack still staring expectantly at her, waiting for her to finish her sentence. Only--he’s not moving. At all.

 

She whirls around to face Rosalind once more, her eyes flashing dangerously. “What did you do to him?”

 

Robert speaks up, seemingly uninterested in the fact that Elizabeth looks about ready to rip the both of them in half. “We couldn’t very well have had this conversation if he was still here. But, seeing as you were very reluctant to let him out of your sight--”

 

“Coupled with the fact that you were about to disrupt this universe’s timeline--”

 

“--We  _ had  _ to step in.”

 

Elizabeth raises a suspicious eyebrow--and is immediately reminded of her father, who had always done the same when the Luteces had told him something ridiculous. “Why?”

 

“Because--”

 

“ _ Reasons. _ ”

 

“ _ Like? _ ” She’s starting to get sick of playing their game--but she thinks she knows why they’ve come. “You’ve come to preserve the timeline, haven’t you?”

 

Rosalind nods. “Indeed.”

 

“What’s so important about  _ this  _ universe’s timeline that you had to step in? It’s one in a million--literally. What makes this one so special?”

 

“Well--you.”

 

Elizabeth blinks. “I--what?”

 

“You,” she repeats, in the tone of one telling a small child that they can’t have a cookie before supper.

 

“You don’t belong in this timeline,” Robert explains, a bit more sympathetic than his sister. “And yet you’re here. That alone wouldn’t be a problem--”

 

“--but you’re trying to intervene in matters which you should not intervene in.” Rosalind finishes.

 

“Simply put, you are meddling in businesses that are not your own, and that is the problem.”

 

Elizabeth scoffs indignantly. “So were you when you helped me and Booker in Columbia!”

 

“That is true,” Rosalind admits, not looking fazed in the slightest by Elizabeth’s outburst. “But we were not  _ directly  _ intervening, as you had done with Jack.”

 

“As you  _ are  _ doing,” Robert clarifies.

 

“And as you will have  _ continued  _ to do. Unless we had caught you at this particular moment in time.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Not only are you directly interacting with him--as we were with you--but you’re also trying to  _ prevent  _ the future from happening.”

 

“You’ve done so before, though I’m not sure you remember. Comstock?”

 

The memory flashes through her mind--her, standing on Comstock’s side of the tear, screaming at him, begging him to stop, stop--but he doesn’t, and poor Anna--poor, poor Anna…

 

She shudders at the memory, feeling sick all of the sudden. She looks to Rosalind for confirmation.

 

Rosalind nods. “I’m afraid my brother is correct. Your actions would greatly scramble the existence of this timeline.”

 

“But why  _ this  _ timeline? What’s so special about this universe as it is? And Jack?”

 

“Ah. Now you’re asking the right questions,” Rosalind says, nodding curtly.

 

“We have seen this timeline and its variants. Yet there are only two ultimate outcomes.” Robert explains.

 

“Revolving around the choices of the individual who supposedly has none.”

 

“Your...friend. Jack.”

 

“And what you are doing will interfere with his path to either of them.”

 

“For you know too much--”

 

“--And he is  _ always _ alone.”

 

“You may  _ believe _ you are helping--”

 

“-- _ But _ you are only keeping him from his…” Rosalind pauses, then makes a face, as if what she is about to say is not what she wants to. “‘destiny.’”

 

Elizabeth scoffs once more, shaking her head in disbelief. “‘Destiny?’ Please. There’s no such thing.”

 

Rosalind nods in agreement, though she purses her lips as if not quite convinced that what she believes is true. “Perhaps. But there is such a thing as the future, and unless you want to destroy this universe, then I would suggest you not reveal the true nature of his origins.”

 

“But I  _ have  _ to,” Elizabeth growls, clenching her fists at her sides. “I  _ have  _ to, he’s my  _ friend. _ I can’t let him walk into a trap! I  _ can’t!  _ He’d never forgive me, he’d--”

 

“He’ll be fine,” Robert says, obviously trying and failing to placate her.

 

“In the long-term,” Rosalind adds, “But there are always dominos to fall in a chain reaction.” She stops, looking at her brother oddly. “Brother, we really should be going. We have things to do, do we not?”

 

“Indeed we do. Farewell, Elizabeth. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

 

“Or perhaps not.”

 

“Wait. What do you mean--”

 

But the lights have started to flicker again, and Elizabeth knows that in another second, they’ll be gone.

 

Sure enough, when the lights come back on, the Luteces are nowhere to be seen.

 

Elizabeth swallows thickly, fighting back the tears that have started to form in her eyes.

 

She has to tell him. She  _ has  _ to, but--

 

But she can’t.

 

She can’t do it.

 

Why not?

 

Why can't she move her mouth, why can't she stop lying to him, why can't she just tell him the truth?

 

_ Why? _

 

That old, dreaded feeling is back in her chest, that feeling of hopelessness, of panic, and she doesn’t know what to do. She should tell him, she knows she should--and yet something stops her. Is it what the Luteces said, about her disrupting the timeline? She thinks, and she can’t find the answer.

 

Or maybe she just can’t find an answer she would like to admit.

 

Maybe in keeping it from him, the only person she’s protecting is herself. 

 

She had given him to Fontaine. She had given Fontaine the key to his mind. To his cooperation.

 

It felt impossible to keep it from him... And it felt impossible to tell him. 

 

How would he respond to it? She was the reason he was down here now. And worse, she had been lying to him ever since then. She had lied about being in the plane. She had lied about Paris. She had lied about her poster. She had lied about everything.

 

Worse still, he believed her every time.

 

How could he ever trust her again, ever stand to be her friend after knowing how much she’d deceived him?

 

She’s not afraid of Fontaine, or Andrew Ryan or the Luteces. 

 

It’s Jack’s disappointment that scares her the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know y'all have been waiting FOREVER for a new chapter, and I'm super sorry for that. I don't update on here often; I have a Fanfiction account that I update far more frequently (FF just works better for me tbh). There are about six more chapters there that you can read while I finish up the next one, which should be available about a week from now. The link is below; and thank you so much for reading my story and for your comments and kudos! Have a great day (or night)!
> 
> Link to AUA (Chapter 10): https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12379666/10/An-Unlikely-Acquaintance


	9. Ghosts From Her Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I had written it in the last chapter note that I had done, but apparently not...whoops. I stopped updating over here because there weren't a lot of BioShock people over here on Ao3 (at least not as many as there are on FF) but with the newest chapter coming out today I thought I'd just go ahead and update over here as well. So have a couple more chapters!

“You were saying…”

 

Elizabeth jumps at the voice, grabbing her pistol and turning around, only to find Jack’s adorably confused face mere inches from the barrel. He raises his hands in front of him in defense, clearly startled.

 

“Whoa, what the hell, Liz?”

 

Elizabeth blinks, lowering her weapon. She breathes a sigh of relief that Jack is moving again--but her dilemma hits her back in the face.

 

The Luteces couldn’t stop her now. Or maybe they would. They might take greater measures. But Rosalind had said they were needed elsewhere.

 

And the universe collapsing, the timelines, the future…

 

Is Jack worth all of that?

 

...No, stupid question.

 

But is now the time? Maybe she should wait. Maybe she should wait just a little longer. Then she could confess everything about only herself, correct every lie. That wouldn’t interfere with the future, would it?

 

She looks up at his face, still concerned even after she had lowered her gun. She could tell him now. She could if she wanted to. 

 

There was no better time.

 

...So why was it so hard?

 

“Elizabeth,” she says finally, “It’s...my name is Elizabeth.”

 

“... Are you okay?” Jack asks, the worry plain in his voice.

 

“Yeah!” Elizabeth clears her throat, holstering the pistol, “I just… yeah.” She looks up at him, and opens her mouth as if to speak. But then she exhales, and looks away. “We should keep moving.”

 

Without waiting for a response, she continues forward as Jack watches her, with a mix of bewilderment and concerned worry on his face.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“So, we have to build a  _ bomb  _ to get to Ryan? Why the hell?”

 

“We need to overload the core. Apparently, building that bomb and setting it off near the core will do the trick.”

 

“Well, yeah, but why a bomb?”

 

“Do I  _ look  _ like an electrical engineer?”

 

“No, but you’re probably smart enough to be one.”

 

Elizabeth frowns at the blush that creeps up her cheeks. She ducks her head, trying to hide her face from her companion. 

 

She looks up from the floor and to her chagrin sees Jack trying not to seem too pleased by her reaction. No doubt this was fun for him--it had been a while since he’d seen her so flustered.

 

He clears his throat, attempting and failing to look serious again, “Anyway. You were saying?”

 

Elizabeth narrows her eyes at him, but doesn’t mention his cockiness. “We need that bomb to get to Ryan. Let’s find the stuff and get it assembled.”

 

“Ah... great. Another one of  _ those  _ missions. Alright, what’s the first on the list?”

 

“Some R-34 Wire Clusters. We also need some cans of ionic gel. Those are the two things that we have immediate access to, anyways--we might as well get those first.”

 

“Fine...” Jack says, sounding defeated. “So where are we supposed to find this stuff again?”

 

“Well, we should be able to find some R-34 clusters on a Big Daddy--obviously, we’ll want a dead one. As for the cans of ionic gel, well--I'm not sure. Best to just start looking and hope we find what we're looking for.”

 

“Should we split up again? I can look for the Big Daddies. I’ve taken down a few live ones before, as you know.”

 

Elizabeth nods, remembering the countless times she and Jack had wrestled with the enormous monsters. “Are you sure you can handle them yourself?”

 

“I’ll be fine, trust me.”

 

“Okay then, I guess I’ll take the ionic gel...whatever that is. Once I’m done, I’ll help you finish the Big Daddies if I can. Just… don’t get yourself killed.”

 

“Will do. Keep your radio on, okay?”

 

Elizabeth nods. 

 

“Alright, see you soon then. Hopefully,” Jack smiles, as they head back to the small space from which they had entered.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“Okay, how are there  _ no  _ Big Daddies around? Seriously, every place we’ve been to before has been  _ crawling  _ with the bastards, but now, right when it would be most convenient, poof! They’re all gone!”

 

“ _ Just calm down, Jack. I know there’s at least one--I heard him moving around in the background earlier. Again, you should probably search for dead ones-- _ ”

 

“ _ What,  _ exactly, do you think I’ve been doing?”

 

A pause. “ _ You mean, you’ve only searched for dead ones? Jack, I hate to say it, but _ \--”

 

“No, no,” he sighs. “No. I’ve been looking for Big Daddies, dead and alive--but there aren’t any. They just...disappeared.” 

 

“ _ Well, like I said, I heard one earlier. Might wanna check it out. _ ”

 

“Yeah, okay. Good to know. What about you? Any luck?”

 

“ _ Yeah, actually. I got one can, but we need one more to assemble the bomb. _ ”

 

Jack whistles, impressed. “Wow. That was fast. Well, what else do we need for the bomb? Maybe you could get that as well.”

 

“ _ Not likely. We need a charge of Nitroglycerin, which, I don’t even know where the hell we would find that. _ ”

 

“Well, I don’t know what the hell it even  _ is _ . Maybe Kyburz had something about it?”

 

“ _ Huh. Well, his audio diaries didn't mention anything about it aside from the name...wait. Where's his office again? _ ”

 

“How the hell would I know?”

 

“ _ Good point. Alright, I'll find it by myself. Good luck hunting down that Big Daddy! _ ”

 

“Wait, Liz, what are you doing? Liz!”

 

But the radio doesn't respond.

 

Jack sighs. “Well, good luck to you too, then,” he says to the radio, frowning.

 

Knowing Elizabeth, she’s about to do something either incredibly brave or incredibly foolhardy.

 

He really hopes it was the first one.

 

In the distance, he hears the long, low groan of a Big Daddy, accompanied shortly after by the high-pitched tones of a Little Sister’s song.

 

Looking towards the noise (and tightening his grip on his wrench), he takes a deep breath, grimacing. He bites his lip nervously before swallowing and heading towards the noise.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Elizabeth finally finds another can of ionic gel near the very place that she’s been looking for. She adds the can to her inventory and cautiously approaches the door, making sure to look around for tripwires and traps.

 

When she first walks in, she doesn't see any--but just because she doesn’t see them doesn’t mean they’re not there. She takes another step--and immediately regrets her decision.

 

A sharp, painful shock courses through her body, briefly paralyzing her. It’s gone almost as soon as it came, but Elizabeth still feels the aftermath, her heart racing and her head pounding. She hyperventilates for a while, trying her hardest to catch her breath but failing. Her own scream still rung in her ears, making her sudden headache worsen.

 

Once she calms herself down, however, she curses herself for not seeing the trap bolt that was right in front of her. Deciding that she wasn’t going to make the same stupid mistake twice, she pulls out her pistol and aims it at the next one she sees, firing at the bolt that holds the trap, disabling it.

 

She does this for every trap she comes across in the small space. Once they’re all disabled, she’s able to move freely around Kyburz’s office, looking for the Nitroglycerin charge.

 

At first, when she doesn’t find anything, she frowns, wondering if it’s not here after all.

 

But then she sees the button on the side of Kyburz’s desk, cleverly hidden away so that no one but Kyburz could use it. She grins as she walks over to the desk, preparing to push the button.

 

Wait.

 

She hesitates, her finger hovering over the red button, unsure.

 

She doesn’t even know what it  _ does.  _ Should she  _ really  _ press it? After all, it could be a trap just as much as it could be the key to finding out where that Nitroglycerin charge is.

 

Taking another look at the button, she decides that this is her only option. She slams her finger down, hoping that she didn’t just screw herself to hell.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Once the Big Daddy has been defeated (and the Little Sister cured and escorted safely to a vent), Jack sets about searching the corpse of his fallen foe.

 

He finds a considerable amount of cash, as always--and something that looks like an R-34 cluster.

 

_ Success. _

 

He grabs it and stuffs it into his pocket, making sure that he’s got the whole thing before abandoning the Big Daddy.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

_ Thwack. _

 

Her last crossbow bolt goes straight through the offending Splicer’s head, pinning him to the wall behind him. Elizabeth barely has time to look away in disgust before she’s fending off another Splicer’s attack, quickly swapping out her empty crossbow for her shotgun. She fires a shell into the Splicer’s face--but he’s not close enough for his head to explode, something that Elizabeth is grateful for.

 

She fires a bolt of Shock Jockey at a splicer crawling on the ceiling. Elizabeth staggers back a bit with the force of the Plasmid--apparently she had forgotten just how powerful these things are.

 

The Splicer shrieks, falling from the ceiling and landing in a heap on the floor in front of Elizabeth. Elizabeth readies her weapon, aiming at the Splicer’s head, but she rolls away at the last second, causing Elizabeth to hit the floor instead. Grumbling, she turns around, looking for the last Splicer.

 

But she’s nowhere in sight.

 

Elizabeth holds her breath, making sure her weapon is loaded before poking around, trying to find her.

 

Nothing so far...

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“ _ She’s still going to tell him. _ ”

 

“ _ Perhaps. But there’s nothing we can do anymore. It’s in the hands of fate to decide. _ ”

 

_ “‘Fate.’ ‘Destiny.’ Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” _

 

_ “Humor was never your strong suit, brother.” _

 

_ “All the same, what will become of this timeline if she does tell the boy?” _

 

_ “The universe has a way of righting itself one way or another. We must simply be patient.” _

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Jack fires an Electro Bolt at the Big Daddy, which stops in its tracks, its body convulsing with the shock of the Plasmid. Jack raises his shotgun and fires a shell right into its face (or what Jack assumed would be his face, if he had one), causing it to stumble back, trip, and fall to the ground, dead.

 

Jack grins, victorious, but then the cries of the Little Sister reaches his ears. He looks on as the girl runs to her fallen protector, crying, “Get  _ up,  _ Mr. Bubbles! Get up!”

 

Jack sighs, knowing what he has to do next, and knowing that it won’t be easy. He walks over to her, kneeling down so that he’s eye level with the Little Sister. She screams, putting her hands over her ears and shaking her small head furiously.

 

“No! No, no, no! Leave me alone!” she cries. “You killed Mr. B! Go away!”

 

Jack takes a deep breath and slowly raises his hand, intending to put it on the girl’s forehead.

 

She dodges his hand, though, and tries to run away from him--but Jack is quicker. He grabs her arm before she can move any farther and places his hand on her forehead--a bright, white light fills the room, and Jack knows that the girl has been successfully cured.

 

The blinding light recedes and in place of the Frankensteinian creature he had been holding stands a very small (and very frightened) young girl. She looks around wildly, apparently not used to her surroundings.

 

“Mr. Bubbles?” she asks, frightened. She then sees the dead Big Daddy not too far from her, and her eyes widen in fear.

 

“It’s okay,” Jack says to her, his voice soothing. “You’re safe now.”

 

He doesn’t mention the  _ For now,  _ that he adds in thought.

 

“But what about Mr. B?” the girl asks, scared. She looks at the Big Daddy again, as if knowing that he was her former protector.

 

“Mr. B left,” he lies, his heart breaking at the sad expression that crosses the child’s face. “But Mama Tenenbaum is still here. She’s gonna take care of you, okay?”

 

At hearing the name “Mama Tenenbaum,” the girl’s mood changes in an instant. Her face breaks out in a smile, and she wipes away the tears in her eyes, shouting, “Yay! Mama Tenenbaum!”

 

Jack smiles, holding out his hand for the girl to take so that he can escort her to a vent. “That’s right. I’ll take you to her, but you need to follow me, okay?”

 

The girl nods seriously, taking his offered hand and gripping it tightly. “Are we going to go through the hidey-holes?”

 

“ _ You _ are,” Jack tells her. “They’ll take you to Mama Tenenbaum. I can’t fit through them, though. I’m too big.”

 

She giggles, as if Jack’s just told the funniest joke in the world. “You sure are! I saw one awhile ago, Mister. We’ll go to that one! Follow me!”

 

She tugs on his hand enthusiastically, tugging him along, and Jack, left with no other option, is forced to follow.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

She swings her lead pipe at the frozen Splicer and winces as the Splicer shatters loudly, the noise echoing in the large, mostly empty room. She takes extra caution not to slip on any of the frozen shards that the action created, tip-toeing through the room and over to Kyburz’s desk once more.

 

She looks around the room, disappointed. Is it really not here? Elizabeth had thought for sure that it would be.

 

Just as she’s about to turn around again, something catches her eye; a round, glowing something. It takes Elizabeth longer than it should to realize that that’s what she’s been looking for.

 

She grins when she does, though, and hurries over to it, lest the secret panel close again. She reaches out to grab it, but then stops--she should probably get a cloth or something to wrap it in. After all, the thing could be radioactive.

 

She finds a cloth and carefully wraps it around the charge, which she then places in her satchel. After she’s made sure that it won’t fall out without her noticing, she heads out--but not before radioing Jack to tell him that she’s done.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“Up you go…” Jack says, as he hoists the little girl up to the level of the vent opening.

 

The girl giggles, swinging her legs in the air before climbing in through lip of the circular hole. Before disappearing down the shaft, she turns around to look at Jack. “Thank you, Mister!”

 

“You’re welcome,” Jack smiles. “Oh, by the way, have you seen a Big D--I mean, have you seen another Mr. Bubbles anywhere around here?”

 

“I have, yeah!” she replies, beaming. “Over where the big, orange thingy is!”

 

“Big orange--you mean the core?”

 

The little girl nods enthusiastically. “Uh-huh!”

 

Jack nods too, smiling. “Thank you…”

 

The little girl stares at him for a couple of seconds before evidently realizing that he wants her name. She sticks out her hand and says, “Emma! I’m Emma!”

 

“Hi, Emma,” he says, taking her hand and shaking it gently. “Thanks for your help. Now, you know how to get to Mama Tenenbaum, right?”

 

She nods vigorously. “I do! Thanks for your help, Mister!”

 

And with that, she turns around and disappears in the vent.

 

Jack watches her go, waiting a minute before leaving himself, but for very different reasons.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

_ This is ridiculous,  _ Elizabeth thinks to herself as she rounds another corner and--as expected--no Jack.

 

Where the hell is he?

 

She doesn’t know, but she hopes that he’s not dead--he hadn’t answered her when she’d radioed him to tell him she was done. She wonders if maybe his radio died.

 

God, she hopes not.

 

For once, the avenues within Rapture are quiet, devoid of gunfire, screeching Splicers, or the footsteps of Big Daddies.

 

She hopes that the absence of the loud, ominous footsteps are because Jack’s already taken care of them.

 

It was surprising, honestly. She had never seen anything defeat a Big Daddy down here. Frankly, aside seeing the Big Daddies unlucky enough to fall beneath the shrapnel of the crumbling city, she didn’t know it was possible to best them before Jack had done it.

 

Jack…

 

The thought of him makes her stomach churn--though, this time, it’s unpleasantly.

 

What is she supposed to do?

 

She knows what she's  _ supposed  _ to do--she’s  _ supposed  _ to let her friend, her only friend since Booker, walk right into a trap. She’s supposed to lie, to deceive him--just as “Atlas” is doing right now. She’s supposed to stand back and let him  _ die,  _ all in the name of preserving the goddamn timeline.

 

Well, screw that.

 

She’s not losing someone else she cares about--not if she can help it.

 

She doesn’t have much time to dwell on that, however--they have a mission, after all, and the sooner they complete it, the better.

 

With the objective again set in her mind, she pulls herself out of her thoughts. She suddenly hears the echo of distant gunfire, followed by a crash she can feel from the ground she is standing on. Inhaling sharply, she clutches her weapon tighter and sprints forward towards the noise.

 

_ That had better not be Jack,  _ she thinks as she rounds the corner, and yep--just as she had feared, there he was, getting his ass handed to him by a Big Daddy.

 

“Jack!”

 

“Liz!” Jack manages, diving again out of the way as the Big Daddy obliterates the spot behind him. He whips his head around to face her, a look of panic on his face. “It’s okay! I’ve got this under control--” He interrupts himself to lunge backwards, the Big Daddy swiping at him again.

 

Elizabeth scoffs. “Yeah, I can see that! Just hang tight, I’ll be right there!”

 

The long groan of the Big Daddy drowns out whatever Jack says next, but Elizabeth figures he’s probably trying to dissuade her from joining the fight. She pretends she didn’t hear him and fires a bullet into the Big Daddy’s helmet.

 

The Big Daddy whips around, its multiple red eyes fixating onto her. Elizabeth barely has time to think,  _ Oh, shit,  _ before it’s lunging at her, the drill in its hand rotating violently as it draws his hand back and prepares to bash her face in.

 

Suddenly, a layer of frost appears over its body, and it halts in place barely a foot above Elizabeth’s ducked head. Behind him, Jack lowers his hand as Elizabeth backs away.

 

“I told you to get out of here!” Jack says, pushing his hair out of his eyes angrily. His eyes flash dangerously, but Elizabeth isn’t fazed...much.

 

“Like I’m going to listen to you,” Elizabeth snaps back, equally pissed. “That thing was about to kill you!”

 

“And it was about to kill you too! I used the last of my EVE to freeze it thanks to—”

 

There’s a sudden cracking noise, and the two of them immediately scramble away from the Big Daddy as it breaks through the layer of ice and turns to face them.

 

As the Big Daddy gives a deep, guttural growl, Jack and Elizabeth instantly forget their bickering. Elizabeth watches as Jack’s face hardens--she can practically  _ see  _ his mind going into combat mode. He steps in front of her, his body shielding hers. That familiar feeling is back in her chest again--but she’s quickly snapped back to present day as Jack fires off a pistol round.

 

Jack rolls to the left as Elizabeth leaps towards the right, and the Big Daddy swipes at the air behind them with its massive drill. For a moment after, it seems confused, as if it can’t decide who to chase after first.

 

Jack helps it make up its mind by firing another pistol round into its back, sending the Big Daddy into a rage, barrelling after him. Jack whips out an EVE hypo and plunges it into his arm, causing it to freeze over with the effects on Winter Blast. He ducks behind an overturned dining room table, out of Elizabeth’s sight.  Fortunately for him (and unfortunately for Elizabeth), he’s also out of sight of the Big Daddy, who, upon realizing that his target is no longer visible, turns its attention to Elizabeth.

 

Knowing it’s going to charge either way, she lifts her crossbow and fires repeatedly at its metal head. The Big Daddy roars again, pointing its drill forward as it rockets towards Elizabeth. She dives out of the way just before it can hit her, but the shockwave of the drill’s impact on the wall still jars her. 

 

“Unzip ‘em, Mr. B!” its Little Sister cries from her place on its shoulders, her tiny fists curled into balls atop the metal monster’s head.

 

Elizabeth stops in her tracks when she hears the little girl, still screaming at her protector to kill them.

 

_ No, it can’t be… _

 

Just then, Jack’s head peeks out from his hiding place, and, seeing the Big Daddy cornering Elizabeth, proceeds to snap his fingers, setting the metal monstrosity ablaze. Elizabeth jumps back in surprise as a couple of flames appear on the sleeve of her blouse. She quickly dodges the Big Daddy’s drill swing, joining Jack in his hiding spot. She pats her sleeve until the fire dies down, and then turns to Jack.

 

“I thought you were out of EVE,” she says, out of breath from not only being on fire, but also from the unexpected plot twist she had just discovered.

 

Jack, seemingly unaware of her sudden crisis, grins, holding up an empty hypo. “Found one one the corpse over there. Are you out too?”

 

“I don’t splice, I told you that--” she stops when she sees the look on his face. “...Yeah, I’m out.”

 

“Here, have the extra one. I’ll be right back.” He hands her another hypo and stands, the flames on his fingers dancing merrily as he snaps his fingers. Elizabeth hears the Big Daddy groan in pain, as Jack leaps over the table and rejoins the fight.

 

Elizabeth stays back, intending to catch her breath before aiding him. She clutches her stomach, breathing heavily.

 

“Hot! Hot! Hot!” the Little Sister cries, none too pleased with Jack’s latest action. Jack himself yells something that might have been, “Sorry!”, but Elizabeth can’t hear over everything else that’s going on at the moment.

 

Elizabeth cringes at the screams, remembering the last time that a Little Sister had uttered those words. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to block out the memories that are threatening to resurface…

 

“Liz!” Jack calls suddenly, sounding frantic. “Could you give me a hand here?”

 

_ “Hot! Hot! Hot!” the girl screams, sounding scared. Elizabeth can hear her as she scuttles through the vents, trying to find an opening before she’s burned alive... _

 

“Liz! Help me out! I’m out of EVE! There’s a hypo over there somewhere, I saw it--”

 

Jack is suddenly cut off by what sounds like the Big Daddy knocking him upside the head, but Elizabeth is too lost in her own world of regret and guilt to even hear him.

1

_ Cries of “Too hot! Too hot!” echo through the vents, increasing in volume as the Little Sister realizes that she’s trapped with no way out. “I want out, I want out!” she cries, banging on one of the closed openings. “I WANT OUT!!!” _

 

“ _ ELIZABETH!!! _ ”

 

A loud crash right next to her head is what finally brings her back to reality. Looking around, she finds that the Big Daddy has found her hiding spot and has split the table in two, leaving Elizabeth vulnerable to its attacks. Elizabeth barely has time to roll out of the way before it strikes again, this time much closer to where her head would have been had she not moved.

 

She grabs her crossbow and fires bolt after bolt at its head, not bothering to check if it’s doing any damage or how much ammunition she has left. In hindsight, however, she probably should have, because one click later, and she realizes that she’s out of ammunition.

 

She curses, intending to reload as fast as possible--but she realizes, to her horror, that that was the last of it. Thinking quickly, she thrusts out her hand, intending to at least shock her attacker--but then remembers that she doesn’t have any EVE. Groaning, she looks for Jack, hoping that he’ll be able to help her--and finds him lying unconscious by the wall a few feet away.

 

“ _ Jack! _ ” she shouts, beginning to run forward, then remembers the Big Daddy sure to tear him up if she lead it towards him. 

 

Instead, she keeps her distance and scans the room for the hypo Jack was talking about while trying to ignore the cries of the Little Sister. She finally spots it next to the side entrance a couple yards away, on top of an overturned refrigerator. She looks from the hypo to the Big Daddy, and plans her next move.

 

Taking a deep breath, she gets up and sprints as fast as she can towards the hypo. She doesn’t stop, not even when she hears the Big Daddy angrily stomping towards her, its drill revving.

 

Almost there…

 

She trips at the last second, falling face-down on the bloody floor. That’s the least of her worries, however--she can hear the Big Daddy’s footsteps come closer and closer.

 

As Elizabeth scrambles back to face the Big Daddy, a bullet suddenly ricochets off of the monster’s helmet. Elizabeth turns and sees a Leadhead Splicer at the opposite entrance, a gun in her hand. 

 

For a few moments, the Big Daddy just stops. It takes another step towards Elizabeth, before the Splicer fires again at its back. Then, finally, it turns its attention behind it to the offending Leadhead.

 

“Where’s your little ADAM girl, huh?!” she screeches, looking around wildly, as if the object of her desires wasn’t right in front of her, clinging to the tin man’s back. “ _ Where is she?! _ ”

 

Elizabeth, wondering what the hell the Splicer is talking about, looks up at the Big Daddy’s back, expecting to see the Little Sister still holding tightly to her protector’s back, her eyes shut tightly as they had been the entire fight.

 

But she’s not there.

 

Frantic, Elizabeth scans the room for any sign of her--but she doesn’t find anything. She makes to get up from the floor, but a stray bullet from the Splicer’s gun pierces the floor beside her, causing her to scramble back against the wall in a moment of panic.

 

Remembering her previous objective, she looks around and, to her delight, finds that she’s right next to the EVE hypo. Grinning, she reaches out and grabs it, not thinking twice before plunging it into her wrist and emptying it.

 

Immediately, she can feel her dormant Plasmids becoming active, her hand becoming blue with the pulses of electricity and and her ears filling with the crackle of Shock Jockey. Aiming for the Splicer, she pushes out her hand, praying that she doesn’t miss.

 

The Splicer’s subsequent scream and violent spasms confirm that she hit her mark, and she nearly screams hallelujah.

As the Big Daddy lumbers towards the sparking Leadhead, Elizabeth dives forward for Jack’s shotgun, then gets up to aim it at the Big Daddy. She waits as the Big Daddy pummels the Leadhead into the wall with its drill.

 

It shouldn’t take more than a few rounds of shotgun to finish off the damage she and Jack had already inflicted--at least, she thinks. They had done quite a bit of damage to it already, and with Jack’s new modifications, his weapon packed quite a punch.

 

A bead of sweat rolls down the side of her cheek as she waits. After a few moments, the Big Daddy gets bored of drilling into the Leadhead’s corpse and pauses.

 

Bracing herself, Elizabeth pulls the trigger.

 

The force of the shot catches her by surprise, and she nearly drops the gun, but remembers to grip it tightly. The Big Daddy roars in outrage, turning to Elizabeth.

 

Elizabeth stands her ground, clutching the gun tightly as she fires again, shutting her eyes tight, not daring to hope. A bang and a loud thud later, Elizabeth hears crying from none other than the Little Sister, whom Elizabeth finally spots as she emerges from her hiding space, rushing to the Big Daddy’s side.

 

“Mr. Bubbles! Noooo!” the girl cries, falling to her knees and sobbing over the corpse of her metal protector.

 

Elizabeth tries not to let her knees buckle, becoming weak from being mere seconds of being drilled to bits… and from seeing her again, the whole reason she had returned to this dreadful place.

 

She slowly takes a few steps towards the girl as she cries. Elizabeth winces when she accidentally steps on a piece of glass; the noise attracts the girl’s attention, and she stiffens, sniffling. She straightens, and turns to look at Elizabeth, fixing her with a look of utter hatred and heart-brokenness.

 

“Sally?” Elizabeth asks, still cautiously approaching the Little Sister, her arm outstretched, “We’re… we’re here to help. We… Jack can cure you.”

 

The Little Sister is listening closely now, still looking at her loathingly, but now also eyeing her with curiosity. “Jack? Who’s he?”

 

“He’s going to save you,” Elizabeth tells her, still creeping towards her ever so slowly. “He’s going to take you home.”

 

“Home?” Sally asks, now moving to stand up so that she and Elizabeth might be closer to eye-level. “What’s that?”

 

“You’ll see,” Elizabeth says, finally reaching the little girl, who is still wary of the complete stranger (or so she thinks Elizabeth is, anyways) now directly in front of her. “Just come with me, and we’ll go. Okay?”

 

Sally stares for a moment before she shakes her head vigorously, backing away from the woman who stands before her, looking a bit too eager for her liking. “No, I don’t want to.”

 

Elizabeth’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

 

“I don’t want to go. I want Mr. Bubbles!”

 

Elizabeth purses her lips, frowning. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bubbles can’t… can’t help you anymore. ...But Jack can. He’s as tough as any Big Daddy, and he can protect you.” She looks back at his unconscious body. “He’s one of the only people left who cares about what happens in this sunken…” she trails off, trying to find a word slightly more withheld than “hellhole,” but fails. “...hellhole.” 

 

She looks back at Sally and tries her best to smile despite the nervousness and nausea that she feels. “Do you want to meet him?”

 

The little girl hesitates, then nods ever-so-slightly.

 

“Okay,” Elizabeth nods back, her faux smile in place for the little girl. “Just wait here and I’ll wake him up.”

 

Sally nods again and rests her head back on the Big Daddy’s armor. Meanwhile, Elizabeth walks over to where Jack is, sitting unconscious against the wall, and shakes his shoulder, kneeling on the filthy floor so she can whisper in his ear.

 

“Jack, wake up.”

 

He doesn’t move.

 

“Jack,” she tries again, shaking his shoulder again. “Jack, come on. Sally’s counting on us.”

 

Still nothing.

 

By now, Elizabeth is starting to panic, wondering if one of her worst fears has come true, if Jack is--

 

But then he gasps, his head snapping up to look around the empty room. His eyes scour the room, taking in everything that has occurred since he’d been knocked out. When he sees the dead Big Daddy and the Little Sister now looking at him curiously, his face adopts a panicked expression as he turns to look at her fully. The little girl cocks her head and furrows her brow, probably wondering what’s wrong with him. Then Jack turns to Elizabeth, who had stepped back a bit once he had woken up, and his face instantly goes from panicked to calm as he gives her a cheeky smile.

 

“I don’t suppose I somehow killed a Big Daddy in my sleep?”

 

“Nope,” Elizabeth crosses her arms, “And now you owe me for saving your life.”

 

“Well, that’s embarrassing...” Jack grimaces and scratches the back of his head, but then he grins, his eyes twinkling proudly as he looks at his friend, “You did good, Liz.”

 

Elizabeth smiles warmly in return, then remembers Sally, who is now watching their banter, and she turns bright red with embarrassment at having already forgotten the poor girl.

 

“Oh, Jack, there’s somebody I want you to meet...”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

A brilliant, blinding white light begins to fill the room as the tips of Jack’s fingers glow with the tell-tale light purple light of salvation. Sally waits patiently as Jack places his hand on her forehead and tilts her head back, successfully purging her of her ADAM-induced fever dream.

 

Sally blinks as her eyes return to their normal blue, darting wildly around the room as she finally takes it what it actually looks like. A look of horror crosses her face as she quickly turns to Jack, who gives a warm smile as he kneels down so that he’s eye level with her.

 

“Thank you,” she finally says, after a moment’s hesitation. She clasps her tiny hands together and shakes them in appreciation as Jack smiles at her.

 

“You’re welcome,” he says, patting her head.

 

Elizabeth watches the exchange from afar, the faux smile having returned since Jack woke up. Although she  _ is  _ happy she, Jack, and Sally are all alive, she can’t shake the almost unbearable guilt she feels for being responsible for both of them in the first place. Judging by the look Sally is now throwing her way, she seems to remember her, too...

 

Their eyes lock and Elizabeth gets shivers down her spine as she stares into the eyes of the former Gatherer, no longer yellow, but restored to their former pale blue. Her look is hard, as if she remembers what the woman in front of her had done, what atrocities she had committed. Elizabeth stares back with equal intensity, losing the smile and replacing it with a deep frown.

 

And yet…

 

And yet Sally doesn’t seem to know why she’s upset with Elizabeth. Perhaps she only  _ looks _ familiar to her? Perhaps she doesn’t remember anything, aside from her face. But, then, that doesn’t make much sense, because then her eyes wouldn’t have suddenly lit up with realization as she begins to speak, with the clear intent of addressing Elizabeth.

 

She interrupts her before she has the chance, though. “Do we have the last R-34 cluster, Jack?” she says, loud and sudden, startling both Jack and Sally.

 

“Er,” Jack sputters reflexively, “Yes! Right, yes we do. I’ll just...I’ll just go grab it…” He briefly casts Elizabeth a concerned glance, then stands up and makes his way back to the Big Daddy in the middle of the room before he begins digging at its armor for the cluster.

 

Sally hasn’t taken her eyes off of Elizabeth meanwhile. “I think I know you,” she says, with a hint of uncertainty.

 

“I’m sorry, but you don’t,” Elizabeth says hastily, keeping her voice hushed. She glances over at Jack, who is still busy with salvaging the final item.

 

“I sang to you…” Sally continues, and reaches back into the folds of her dress. When she pulls her hand back out, she’s holding something--Elizabeth’s heart nearly stops when she realizes that it’s the little doll with the blue dress and brown hair. Her name was Sarah, if she remembered correctly.

 

Elizabeth stiffens as soon as she sees the doll, painful memories, memories she wanted to forget coming back to haunt her--

 

_ A photo. Elizabeth holds it in her hands, looking almost disdainfully at the girl in the picture, holding the doll--Sarah--to her chest, grinning at the camera... _

 

_ A Little Sister--Sally--stands terrified beside Atlas as Elizabeth approaches, clutching her precious, headless doll close to her chest as she struggles against the grip of one of his goons-- _

 

_ Comstock, holding up Sarah’s head, showing it to the terrified child they’re trying to lure out... _

 

_ “It’s okay, Sally...Look...look, it’s Sarah! See, she’s come to see you! We’re going home…” _

 

_ She, clutching Sarah’s severed head in her hand as she smiles at the doll’s owner, the world around her fading to black. _

 

“Liz?”

 

Elizabeth gives a start as she’s pulled from her reverie by a hand on her shoulder. A quick turn of the head reveals that, of course, it’s Jack--and he looks worried. Elizabeth reallys hates it when he worries.

 

“I’m--I’m fine. And it’s Elizabeth.”

 

Jack doesn’t look convinced, so Elizabeth tries again. “Really, I’m fine. Let’s just get her to a vent, okay?”

 

He looks at Elizabeth, then at Sally, and back again. His eyes ask a handful of questions, but he doesn’t say anything, only walks over to Sally and reaches out his hand, which she takes after some hesitance.

 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says gently, starting to lead her away from the Big Daddy corpse. “It’s time to get you home.”

 

At the word “home,” Sally stops, casting a quick glance at Elizabeth before turning to look up at Jack with a curious expression on her young face. “Home?”

 

Jack nods, clearly not understanding the problem. “Yeah. We’re going to see Mama Tenenbaum. You know who that is, yes?”

 

“Oh.”

 

A pause.

 

“...Is she nice?”

 

“The nicest,” Jack says, still smiling, apparently pleased that this was the only reason for her hesitation. “She’s going to take good care of you, I promise.”

 

“Did she take care of you?”

 

Elizabeth’s stomach churns as she remembers the photo she had seen on the wall of Dr. Tenenbaum sitting next to an infant Jack, Dr. Suchong working in the background. Her stomach churns even harder when she hears Jack say, “No, she didn’t.”

 

“Then how do you know?”

 

“Because she showed me how to save you. She showed me how to save all of the Little… all of the little ones. She wants to see you all free, and saved. That’s more than anyone else can offer down here… even Atlas, I guess.”

 

“What about you?” Sally reaches out and points a finger at Jack’s chest. 

 

Jack grins fondly, “Well, me too I guess. And Liz.” He adds, looking back at his companion. Then he looks to Sally again, “But we’re busy right now. And Tenenbaum can take care of you while we are. And once we’re done, then--”

 

“Then we’ll see what we can do for you,” Elizabeth chimes in, interrupting her companion. “And it’s Elizabeth,” she adds, with a pointed glare in Jack’s general direction.

 

Jack averts his eyes a little too innocently for Elizabeth’s liking.

 

“Anyway…” Elizabeth continues, looking back to Sally, “We should get you to a vent now so you can meet her. Do you know the way?”

 

Sally nods, holding Sarah tightly to her chest.

 

“We’ll take you there then. Would you like that?” Elizabeth asks, donning her faux smile once more for the sake of the child before her.

 

“Yes, I would!” Sally exclaims, practically jumping up and down with excitement.

 

“Then what are we waiting for?”


	10. Congratulaions! It's a Bomb!

As the former Little Sister disappears inside the vent, Elizabeth finally lets the facade fall, the smile slipping from her face. She replaces it with a frown as she ponders what to do. She was glad, ecstatic even, that they could save Sally…but it brought back too many painful memories, and had brought them too close to the truth of her dark past. Too close to exposing her to Jack. At the thought, she turns to him--and upon seeing his smile (which, unlike hers mere moments before, was genuine), she’s filled with guilt. She watches as he watches her tiny feet disappear into the darkness, his smile growing wider when they hear her say, “Come on, Sarah. Let’s go home.”

 

Elizabeth envies his ignorance.

 

He knows nothing. Nothing of his past, of the true nature of “Atlas,” or who Andrew Ryan really is. He knows nothing of the countless experiments done upon him, all the tests and drugs and the trigger phrase--that damn trigger phrase. He knows nothing of it--and of course he doesn’t. How could he, and still stand there, smiling as though he’d already won? He knows nothing about his own past or the evils that hang over him. It seems as though there is nothing that will haunt him, nothing that will taint his views of the children he rescues. He sees Sally as the child she is--sweet and innocent, undeserving of the cruel world of Rapture and Atlas and Ryan. Elizabeth could only see her as a reminder of the many mistakes of her past.

 

She wonders, briefly, how she would look to him if he knew of those many mistakes. Or the lies. She shudders. She doesn’t like to imagine. She doesn’t have to.

 

She suddenly realizes that it’s gone quiet, the distant thumping noise of Sally crawling through the vents long gone. She also realizes that she’ll still staring at Jack, who is now looking at her with an odd expression on his face. She briefly panics, wondering if any of what she’d thought had been said aloud, before Jack’s expression changes and he grins.

 

“I was wondering when you’d notice,” he chuckles. He makes the face again, and it’s only now that Elizabeth realizes that that’s what she must look like right now. He’s mocking her.

 

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbles, looking away as Jack cackles some more. “Where to now? We have all the things we need for the bomb, yes?”

 

At the mention of the bomb, Jack’s laughter begins to fade, and Elizabeth instantly regrets bringing it up so soon.

 

“Yeah, we do,” he says solemnly. He’s not laughing anymore; in fact, he sounds like someone just killed his puppy. She cringes as she remembers that particular audio diary.

 

Jack continues, unaware of Elizabeth’s plight. “We need to make our way back to the secret room and assemble the bomb. Then, we figure out how to use it, head to Ryan’s office, and  _ kill the son-of-a-bitch. _ ”

 

Elizabeth resists the urge to shudder again. She wonders if he knows that he just quoted Atlas word-for-word. She decides not to tell him, just in case.

 

She begins to ask him where this secret room was again when she notices the dark look on Jack’s face. She’s seen that look before--Atlas had had that same look when he had talked about getting rid of Ryan--and she’d rather not see it again, much less on her only friend since Booker. Her heart sinks a bit at the thought of him, but she shakes herself out of it before she gets too lost in her own thoughts.

 

“So let’s get going.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“It goes in the other way.”

 

“No, I’ve got it, Liz.”

 

“It’s Elizabeth, and you do not. It goes in the other way.”

 

“It’s going in this way, I swear.”

 

“You’re going to break it.”

 

“Look, there’s a reason I’m the one carrying the wrench here.”

 

“And you  _ haven’t  _ been breaking things with it?”

 

“Okay, watch, if I try to do it the way you said, it won’t--”

 

_ Click. _

 

The nitroglycerin canister slides in neatly into the bomb’s inner casing. After a few moments of silence, Elizabeth opens her mouth to speak, trying not to grin.

 

“Not a word,” Jack mutters, clearly embarrassed as Elizabeth settles for a smirk. “...Let’s just get this thing built.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Twenty long and confusing minutes later, the EMP bomb is built. Jack step back, ELizabeth following suit, to get a final look at the thing, making sure nothing is missing. He moves a few wires here and there, readjusts the nitroglycerin casing and--done. The damn thing is--finally--done.

 

Jack nods once, turning to Elizabeth to gauge her reaction. She isn’t saying anything--she still has that look on her face, like she’s disappointed, but can’t do anything about it. She’s had that look ever since they’d rescued Sally--he doesn’t know why, and she won’t tell him. He remembers trying to ask her what was wrong on the way here, but she had just shrugged him off, saying that it wasn’t important--what was important now was finding Ryan and ending this.

 

He agrees wholeheartedly-- but that doesn’t mean he can’t worry about her. Because he does. He worries about her--about her constant mood shifts, about what she’s thinking about, about--her. Her story doesn’t add up, he knows it doesn’t--she’s lied to him since they met--and yet he can’t help but trust her for some reason…

 

“You okay?”

 

The question jolts him back to reality. He turns and sees Elizabeth--she’s looking at him, her slightly smeared, dark red lipstick coating the deep frown that twists her lips in a gesture of disapproval--or maybe worry. Her blue eyes narrow ever-so-slightly as she notices that she has his attention now, which she no doubt had been trying to get for a while now. Jack really wishes that he didn’t find her so attractive--maybe then he’d be properly suspicious.

 

Wait...what?

 

“Jack!”

 

She snaps her fingers in his face, causing him to jump in surprise. “Uh, what?”

 

“Did you hear any of what I just said?”

 

“...No?”

 

Elizabeth groans. “I can’t carry it by myself. I don’t think I can carry it at all, in fact. You’ll have to do it.”

 

“What? Why me?”

 

In response, she grabs his upper arm and squeezes, looking at him pointedly. “Oh. That’s why.”

 

“Besides, you’ve taken down Big Daddies, Spider Splicers, and Peach Wilkens, who, by the way, was--should I say,  _ insane _ \--”

 

“As you’ve mentioned, a dozen times--” he mutters under his breath, which earns him a slap to the arm. “Ow!”

 

“My point is, I can’t carry it. Hell, I can barely carry a fully-loaded shotgun. You’ll have to do it.”

 

“Okay, fine. You’ve made your point. But what about all my weapons? I can’t just leave them here.”

 

At this, Elizabeth pauses, her expression for the last two hours being replaced by one of deep thought as she ponders the answer to his question. “I can carry two. But the shotgun has to stay.”

 

“What?! But--but I  _ need  _ the shotgun. It’s my most powerful weapon!” he splutters indignantly.

 

“I can  _ only  _ carry two, Jack. Either two or the shotgun. Your choice.”

 

Grumbling, Jack hefts a reluctant grunt of agreement. “Fine… take the pistol and my crossbow. I know you already have one, but that’s more for knocking people out. I can still carry the wrench with the bomb.”

 

“Great,” Elizabeth grins, holstering the pistol and grabbing the other in both hands. 

 

Jack places the bomb on the floor and casts one last forlorn glance at his shotgun resting on the table before leaving it behind to push the bomb out through the crawlspace of the hidden workshop. As he picks it up again on the other side, he looks to Elizabeth, who looks on, clearly amused.

 

“You’re going to have to cover me,” he points out, “You’re the only one with the weapons, and I’ll be carrying an actual bomb.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Ready then?”

 

Elizabeth nods, her finger already on the trigger of her crossbow. “I’m ready.”

 

“Lead the way,” Jack says, shifting his grip on the bomb in preparation. 

 

With Elizabeth in the lead, the two head off down the corridor.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

It’s getting heavy, Well, not  _ getting  _ heavy--it was always heavy, but the bomb is starting to take its toll on Jack’s arms. It isn’t helping that he can barely carry it, either, despite being the one more qualified to do so.

 

Elizabeth isn’t helping, either--she keeps yelling back at him to “hurry up,” even though Jack’s told her multiple times that he’s going as fast as he can.

 

“Okay, hold up,” Jack finally pants out, yelling ahead as he prepares to drop the bomb for a quick minute. “I need a break.”

 

“Not so fast,” Elizabeth calls back, not even slowing down as she answers him. “We’re almost there. Just hang on for another ten minutes or so.”

 

“ _ Ten minutes?! _ No way. We’re stopping for a few.”

 

“Jack--”

 

“Listen, who here is carrying the bomb? I need a break, Liz.  _ Now. _ ”

 

Elizabeth finally slows to a stop, looking back at her companion not ten feet away. “Fine,” she says, finally relenting. She places her hands on her hips and frowns, clearly displeased at having to wait for Jack to catch up before she can begin moving again.

 

_ Screw her, _ Jack thinks.

 

At this point, he’s just about had enough of her self-entitledness. But, for the sake of the mission, he’ll suck it up.

 

“Just hold on, okay? This thing weighs a ton.”

 

“Somehow I doubt that.”

 

Jack doesn’t respond; he simply rolls his eyes and prepares to carry the bomb once more.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“Well, here we are. Let's get this over with.”

 

Jack nods once in agreement. “Would you like to do the honors, ma’am?” he asks jokingly.

 

Elizabeth glances to the bomb’s control panel, then back at Jack with a somber expression on her face. “You know what? You should do it. I think you’ve earned it.”

 

Jack can  _ feel  _ his face turn a startling shade of pink, and prays that she doesn’t notice--but judging by the look on her face, he guesses it’s already too late for that. “Uh. Gee. Thanks,” he manages, not daring to look his companion in the eye.

 

He looks over the bomb’s control panel, fumbling with the numerous dials and switches. He can hear Elizabeth growing more and more impatient the longer he fiddles with the bomb, her quiet huffs and the impatient tapping of her high heels against the cold, steel floor giving her away.

 

“Will you stop that?” he asks, after the third huff. “I’m trying to not blow us up here.”

 

“Sorry,” she mumbles half-heartedly. Somewhat satisfied with her answer, he returns to his work, only to be interrupted yet again a few moments later--though this time, not by Elizabeth.

 

“ _ Are you almost there, boyo? Clock’s a-tickin’. _ ”

 

Jack sighs, grabbing his radio off of his hip and speaking into it. “We’re here, Atlas. I’m almost done setting up the bomb.”

 

“ _ Good. We don’t have much time, so hurry it up. _ ”

 

“Will do,” he says far too cheerily, “I live to serve.”

 

He hears Atlas chuckle before he disconnects.

 

Thinking nothing of it, he returns to his work, trying his best to ignore what sounds like Elizabeth shuffling nervously beside him.

 

Finally, about three minutes later, the bomb is ready. Jack motions to Elizabeth to flip the switch that will overload the core, and she does so, quickly stepping back as sparks begin to fly from the machine, signaling to the both of them that their work is done and now it’s time to run. Jack scans the room for a way out, and to his delight, he sees that the previously barred doorway is now unlocked, granting them an escape. Jack motions for Elizabeth to follow him through, and she does so, her hands over her head as she tries to avoid being fried.

 

Just then, the lights flicker out, and the two of them are plunged into darkness-or, they would be, had the light of the core not illuminated their way, although poorly.

 

“In here! Come on!” Jack calls to Elizabeth, hoping that she’s smart enough to know how to follow his voice.

 

“In  _ where?  _ Jack, I can’t see you! The lights went out!”

 

“I  _ know  _ that! Just--follow my voice!”

 

“I can barely  _ hear  _ your voice!”

 

Jack curses loudly, equipping his Incinerate! Plasmid and lighting a nearby surface on fire. He hears a loud scream--Elizabeth. He finally catches sight of her a few feet away...on the other side of the roaring fire he just created. By the look on her face, she’s panicking--but she quickly calms down once she sees Jack. Realization soon dawns, however--and she’s gone from relieved to pissed off.

 

“Jack, what the hell?! You could’ve hit me!”

 

“Sorry! I was trying to light up the room a bit more so I could find you!”

 

“A lot of good that would have done you if I was dead!”

 

“ _ Will you stop whining for ten damn seconds and help me out here? _ We’re kind of about to die here!”

 

Elizabeth looks like she’s about to rip him a new one, but doesn’t say anything, something which Jack is grateful for.

 

“Thank you. Now, let’s see...the fire should die down in a couple of seconds--”

 

“Seconds that we don’t have--”

 

Jack shoots her a glare, which effectively shuts her up once more. “ _ Anyways,  _ the best thing we can do is wait. I know--” he adds quickly, after seeing the panicked look on her face once more “--that we’r using up time we don’t have, seeing as this section of Rapture is due to collapse at any moment now, but unless you’re willing to ruin your nice outfit for the sake of survival--”

 

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, she straightens up, looking determined, and Jack knows what she’s going to do even before she does it.

 

He’s just fast enough to avoid getting knocked to the floor by Elizabeth as she leaps over the flames, her arms outstretched to break her fall. Jack instinctively holds out his arms to catch her.

 

Instead, she gracefully lands on her feet on the other side as if it were nothing. She moves past Jack, who watches her pass in disbelief.

 

“Put your arms down,” she remarks, rather snidely, as she grins. “You look ridiculous.”

 

Jack hastily straightens and drops his arms, grumbling under his breath.

 

“Are you going to whine, or are you coming with?”

 

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” Jack mumbles.

 

Before Elizabeth can mutter a retort, Jack’s radio crackles to life, signaling an incoming message from Atlas.

 

“ _ Christ, what a racket you're making down there! If you've surged the core, then there’s only one more task to be done. Head on back to Ryan's gate and throw the circuit breaker. That'll let you right into his place. _ ”

 

Jack reaches for his radio to answer, but is cut off by the sudden noise of bullets hitting metal. Deciding to deal with Atlas later, Jack draws his pistol and fires around the corner, praying he hits his mark. A loud screech, followed by a thud, confirms he did, and he cautiously pokes his head around the corner, just to be sure.

 

“Jack!”

 

He jumps, whipping around and pointing his pistol at the offender--and comes face to face with Elizabeth, who upon seeing his face, goes from startled to disapproving.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Sorry,” Jack says sheepishly, lowering his pistol (but not holstering it). “You startled me.”

 

“Well, I would hope so,” Elizabeth remarks playfully. “Otherwise, I'd hate to have to put you down for betraying me.”

 

“Hardy har-har,” Jack snaps, mock-laughing. “Can we please get out of here now?”

 

“Gladly. Which way is the way out, again?”

 

Their conversation is interrupted by a stray bullet flying out of nowhere and hitting the wall next to Elizabeth's head. Fortunately, she's fast, and dodges the bullet just in time.

 

“What the hell?!” she screams, wildly searching for the source. “Jack, was that you?”

 

“Did you see me shoot?”

 

“...No?”

 

“It wasn't me, Liz. Clearly, we've got company…”

 

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, another bullet heads their way and collides with the wall, fortunately missing the both of them.

 

“Shoot back!” Elizabeth hisses.

 

“At what?!” Jack protests weakly. “I can’t even see where it’s coming from!”

 

_ “Uncivil, uncouth, uncultivated!"  _ A screech echoes from somewhere to Jack’s left. Instinctively, Jack turns and fires, and cringes when he shoots the wall instead.

 

Elizabeth leans over and studies the bullet mark, “Did you at least give the wall a chance to surrender?”

 

“Look, who’s holding the gun here?” Jack demands, weary of her banter.

 

“An unqualified soul, obviously.”

 

Fuming, Jack levels the gun and fires. With a thud, the body hits the floor.

 

Jack lowers the pistol and smiles at the downed Splicer that had attacked them from across the corridor.

 

“Unqualified, eh?” Jack smirks at Liz, twirling the gun around his finger. To his dismay, it slides off the tip, and he fumbles forward to catch it. 

 

Elizabeth raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I stand by my earlier remark.”

 

Jack simply glares. “Are we going to get out of here, or are we going to bicker and complain? Because I don't know if you've noticed, Liz, but this place is falling apart, and  _ I’d  _ rather not become a  _ permanent resident  _ of this  _ godforsaken hellhole. _ ”

 

As if on cue, a light overhead busts, sending sparks raining down on the two of them. Elizabeth screams, immediately covering her head with her hands as Jack takes most of the damage by stepping in front of her and using himself as a shield. While it does protect Elizabeth from the danger of catching on fire, Jack isn't so lucky--he and Elizabeth spend the next few minutes frantically patting out the small fire that has sprouted on Jack’s sweater.

 

Once the danger has passed, Jack turns to his companion, clearly agitated. “See what I mean?” he practically shouts, pointing up at where the light used to be. “We need to get out of here, or we’re dead.”

 

Something in Elizabeth's expression makes him think that she believes they're already dead, but if that's the case, she doesn't say it. She simply nods, reaching into her satchel and pulling out her trusty lead pipe, already bent sideways from bashing so many people's heads in. “Then what are we standing around for?”

 

A sudden (and convenient) scream shatters the illusion of silence as both jump at the sudden noise and ready their weapons.

 

“ _ Hoarder. Hoarder! You HOARDER!!! _ ”

 

Jack steps back a bit, turning to Elizabeth with a knowing grin and bowing a bit while gesturing to the corner, where the deranged woman is sure to be waiting for them. “After you. Ladies first, and all that.”

 

Elizabeth graces him with a playful smirk and an eyeroll as she elbows him in the side as she passes him, muttering, “ _ Such  _ a gentleman…”

 


	11. Let's Have a Chat, Shall We?

“Hey, Liz?”

 

Elizabeth frowns at the familiar nickname, wondering how many times she’d have to tell him that wasn’t her name before he got the memo. “It's Elizabeth. And yes?”

 

“What did you want to tell me?”

 

At this, Elizabeth stops in her tracks, peering curiously over her shoulder at her friend, who looks back just as curiously. “What do you mean?”

 

Jack seems to falter for a moment, looking away and fiddling with his fingers. “Earlier…” he says quietly, then stops, clearly wondering whether or not it would be a good idea to continue. He seems to decide on the positive, as he takes a deep breath before continuing, though this time, he isn’t mumbling. “Earlier, you told me you needed to tell me something. What did you need to tell me?”

 

Elizabeth is taken aback. She is genuinely confused, tilting her head and squinting as if those two actions will make her remember what she had forgotten. What had she needed to tell him?

 

Suddenly, it comes to her in a wave of guilt and panic--Fontaine. Elizabeth’s heart begins to race as she realizes what he must mean; he must be talking about when Elizabeth was going to tell him everything, right before the Luteces showed up and ruined her plans. She had been trying to warn him about Fontaine’s plans for him, hadn’t she? But she hadn’t succeeded--and now, she couldn’t, not without risking the stability of this universe. She wonders if that makes her selfish--it probably does. Strangely enough, however, she doesn’t really give a damn about the universe--all she wants is to keep Jack safe. She can’t really do that if the universe he lives in is crumbling, though.

 

“It’s...nothing.” is all she can manage without sounding as guilty as she feels. When she sees the expectant look on Jack’s face following her statement, she realizes, with dread, that he expects her to elaborate. How is she supposed to do that without giving anything away, though? She decides to improvise.

 

“Listen, uh. I--I don’t really have any…” Friends? Friends seems like a good bet. She’ll go with that. “...friends. It’s nothing personal, really--well, okay, maybe it is. I don’t really trust people, as you’ve seen firsthand, and I’m not the type of girl to run on blind faith. But,” she adds quickly, because Jack looks like he wants to interrupt, “For some reason, Jack, I trust you.”

 

Jack shouldn’t be surprised--they’ve come this far together, haven’t they? Though everything--the Splicers, the Big Daddies, Ryan’s numerous attempts on both of their lives, and, of course, the numerous other things that have tried to kill them--through everything, they’ve stuck together. So Jack really shouldn’t be surprised that Elizabeth is telling him this now--except, he has the most adorable wide-eyed look on his face, like someone just told him that he’s getting a puppy for Christmas. He grins, making Elizabeth wonder how a grown man could look like such an innocent child.

 

“You trust me?” he says, sounding in awe. Elizabeth, at first, thinks he’s messing with her--another way to get on her nerves, like he’s done so many times before--but then she looks at him again, and she sees nothing but honesty in those big, brown eyes.

 

“Yeah. I guess I do. For some reason.”

 

His grin falls to a small smile then, and he suddenly looks sheepish as looks away and rubs the side of his neck. “I, ah...I trust you too. For some reason.”

 

Though the feeling of guilt grows even stronger with those words, Elizabeth can't help but give the boy standing in front of her a warm, soft smile as she continues--though she suddenly finds she can't look him in the eye as she does so. “Thanks. I...that means a lot. To me.” She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she speaks--a nervous habit of hers that she'd developed during her previous time here, before this whole mess had even begun. Before she'd met Comstock, and Sally, and Fontaine, and Suchong, and screwed both herself and her only friend to hell. At the thought of Jack, her stomach churns, and she absentmindedly brings her pinky to in between her index finger and her thumb and squeezes--another nervous habit, though this one was developed long before she had met even Booker.

 

Jack is speaking now--Elizabeth forces herself to concentrate on what he's saying, still worrying her pinky between her fingers as she stares at his face, trying to focus more on his words than his lips--

 

“--you don't look so good, is all I'm saying. Are you feeling okay?”

 

“Uh. Yeah. I’m--I’m feeling okay. This--talking about feelings, I mean--is kind of draining.” She stumbles around her words, and internally she cringes. She knows that can’t have sounded good.

 

Jack chuckles anyways, making Elizabeth’s heart skip a beat--she’s quick to scold herself for that one. “Yeah, it really is. Wouldn’t it be great if we never had to discuss our feelings again?”

 

Elizabeth nods, glad that he hadn’t picked up on her lie.  _ Another one,  _ she reminds herself. “It’d be the best,” she says, far too cheerily for her liking.

 

Another awkward silence ensues--they haven’t had one of those in a long time. Neither one of them knows what to say, it seems--Jack won’t look at her, instead finding the wet, moldy floor of far greater interest, and Elizabeth is too distracted by... _ other  _ things at the moment to think of something to say.

 

It’s Jack who finally decides to break the silence. “So, you mean it? You trust me? We’re friends?”

 

Elizabeth can feel her face flush and her heart nearly stop at the implication. “I never said anything about friends,” she says sharply, and immediately regrets it as she watches Jack’s hopeful expression fall and be replaced with a disappointed one.

 

“...Oh. I--I thought--”

 

Elizabeth shakes her head quickly, trying to remedy the situation before it’s too late. “No no no, it’s fine--”

 

“I mean, I really thought--”

 

“I just--what I  _ meant  _ was--”

 

“I didn’t mean to--”

 

“--We could! I mean, we are. Definitely. I trust you, and in a fight, there’s no one I’d rather have at my side. It’s just that everyone I care about ends up getting killed, and...well, I care about you. So you can kind of see why I’m a bit apprehensive about the whole thing.” It’s the truth. Granted, it’s not the truth she had meant to tell him (and had been planning to tell him ever since they met), but it’s still a truth, and one that Elizabeth hadn’t realized herself until she’d said it out loud. It’s all she can do to not let her knees give out beneath her and collapse on the floor at this point.

 

At her last words, Jack’s face had changed from embarrassed and shy to cautious and worried. Elizabeth can’t help but notice how often his face looks like that. But now, he smiles, a bit too cheekily for Elizabeth’s liking. “Liz, I get it. Really, I do. But I can take care of myself, okay? You don’t need to worry about me. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

 

Elizabeth knows that he’s trying to make her feel better, but the only thing he accomplishes (unknowingly, of course) is getting Elizabeth to feel even worse than she had a moment ago. But she doesn’t show it; instead, she gives a small smile. “Then I guess it wouldn’t hurt to call you a friend.”

 

“I guess not.”

 

Elizabeth feels another strong pang of guilt and fear at the warm smile that follows his statement.  _ I have to tell him,  _ she thinks. She has to. At this moment, right here and right now, she doesn’t give a damn about this universe, or how she might destroy it by telling Jack, her friend,  _ her only friend,  _ how’s he nothing but a pawn on a chessboard. She doesn’t care that it might disrupt the multiverse as a whole. She doesn’t care if the Luteces show up again and try to prevent her from telling Jack; she’s not going to listen. She’s going to tell him everything.  _ It’s now or never,  _ she thinks, as she opens her mouth to say something along the lines of, “Jack, I need to tell you something else. I’ve been lying to you this whole time, and I’m really sorry, but now I have to tell you the truth,” but nothing comes out. She feels her throat close up; she can’t speak. Oh, God, why can’t she speak? Why can’t she say anything?  _ Why can’t she stop lying to him?  _ She knows if she doesn’t tell him now, she’ll never get the chance, and Jack will find out all on his own. He’ll be upset, for sure--not only at Atlas-- _ Fontaine _ \--but at Ryan, and at  _ her,  _ for  _ not telling him.  _ She knows that if she lets him go now, go to Ryan, he won’t die, but he’ll come close, and once Ryan is dead, there is no doubt in Elizabeth’s mind that that is when Atlas will betray him. Atlas knows she’s here, too--knows that she’s been lying to Jack almost as long as he has, and he’ll no doubt use that to his advantage when gloating about how he tricked Jack into doing his bidding. ELizabeth shudders involuntarily at the thought, which, surprisingly, doesn’t catch Jack’s attention as he pries open the door that will lead them to Rapture’s Central Control Center. She tries again, forcing herself to speak through her nervousness and the numerous voices in her head telling her that, no, that’s a bad idea: “Jack--”

 

“ _ Boyo, Ryan won’t wait forever. Would you kindly hurry it up and get to his office? _ ”

 

Jack doesn’t respond, but he does get that glazed look in his eye, like he always does whenever Atlas use those three words. Those three dreadful words.

 

Another interruption. Another time where she could have told him, but yet again, her plans were foiled. Elizabeth is close to a mental breakdown at this point, but she doesn’t show it, stoic as ever--another thing she must have inherited from Booker. She wonders, for a brief moment, if Booker had ever felt the way she was feeling right now --then remembers that the Booker she knew didn’t exist anymore, and she’s one inch closer to breaking down right here and now and sobbing.

 

“After you,” someone says, causing her to jump and reach for her crossbow. She calms down immediately once she realizes that it’s simply Jack, grinning as he half-bows and gestures to the now open door.

 

On the outside, Elizabeth is all smiles, smirking as she comments, “At long last. I was beginning to wonder if you needed my help.” But on the inside, she feels nothing but despair and an impending sense of doom.  _ He has no idea. I didn’t tell him. And now...now it’s too late. _

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“ _ Even in a book of lies sometimes you find truth. There is indeed a season for all things and now that I see you flesh-to-flesh and blood-to-blood I know I cannot raise my hand against you. But know this, you are my greatest disappointment. Does your master hear me? Atlas! You can kill me, but you will never have my city. My strength is not in steel and fire, that is what the parasites will never understand. A season for all things! A time to live and a time to die, a time to build... And a time to destroy!...Come now, my child. There is one final thing to discuss. _ ”

 

Jack stares at the radio in disbelief. “Well. Isn’t he charming.”

 

“He’s certainly dramatic.”

 

“Not the point, Liz.”

 

“That’s the  _ entire  _ point, what are you talking about?”

 

“Just--” He raises his hand, stopping her from interrupting. “Let’s get this over with, yeah? I can’t wait to be shut of this damn place.”

 

Elizabeth looks...concerned, but she nods. “Yeah. Me too. I can’t wait to see the sun again…”

 

“And stay away from water for the rest of my life.”

 

Elizabeth actually  _ laughs  _ at that--it’s small, and quiet, but it’s still a laugh. Jack can’t believe he’s never heard her laugh before--but looking back on their previous time together, he can kind of see why that might be. It still makes him smile, though--and gives him that funny feeling again, too.

 

“Hey, Liz.”

 

Elizabeth turns to him, and Jack sees something that he really doesn’t want to see, especially in her eyes--fear. Fear of what, though? Splicers? Ryan? Fear for his life?

 

That last one makes the most sense--Jack can understand that. He’s scared for her life as well. The look is gone as soon as he sees it, however, so he doesn’t really have an excuse to ask.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Maybe you should...look. Uhm. I--I kinda need to do this alone.”

 

“What? No!”

 

Jack jumps at the sudden increase in volume in her voice. “Whoa, what? Why not?”

 

“I--I didn’t mean…” she stammers sheepishly. “Well....Jack, how can you be sure that this isn’t a trap? Ryan’s obviously waiting for you--what if he planned an ambush or something?”

 

“You mean I haven’t survived ambushes before? Liz, I’m shocked.” He puts a hand to his heart mockingly, then puts it down, grinning. “I can handle myself, promise. The real question is: can you? I mean, I’ll be gone for a while, so…”

 

Elizabeth frowns--finally, a familiar expression. “I’ve survived worse, believe me.”

 

_ How am I supposed to believe you when you keep lying to me? Honestly, get your facts straight, woman.  _ He doesn’t say that, though--instead, he figures his distrust is better warranted somewhere else, like the fact that Ryan may have indeed planned an ambush for him. No doubt he would have, of course--but his companion pointing that out for him was helpful in preparing him. Speaking of which--

 

“I’m going to need my crossbow back.”

 

Surprisingly, she hands it over with no fuss. But he soons finds out why. “Take it. It’s out of ammo, though. You’re going to have to get more.”

 

Jack groans. “Oh, are you serious? I just can’t catch a break, can I?”

 

Elizabeth rolls her eyes. “Oh, quit being a baby. Look, there’s a Circus of Values over there.” She points to, indeed, a Circus of Values sitting in the corner of the rather spacious area. “There’s got to be some ammo in there. Also, there’s a shotgun over there I think. You might want that.”

 

“Considering you forced me to abandon my other one? Yeah.” He can’t help the bitterness in his voice as he turns to leave, but Elizabeth doesn’t seem to notice, or else she just doesn’t care.

 

“Jack...be careful. Okay? I...I’ll be pissed if I have to drag your dead body out of there and into a Vita-Chamber.”

 

Jack grins. “Well, gee, thanks for the idea.”

 

“I mean it. Don’t die, okay?”

 

Jack gives her a thumbs up.

 

“I’m not going anywhere, remember? I’ll come back. Promise.”   
  


“You make a lot of those.”

 

“And I keep every one. Don’t  _ you  _ die, either, Liz. I want us both to get out of here.” Because even though she’s lied to him since they met--even though nothing she’s told him about her past has added up or made any sense at all, he does trust her. He knows she’s his friend, and so no matter what, he’ll stand by her. Is that foolish of him? It’s downright idiotic. But he can’t help it--kind of like how Elizabeth can’t help frowning every ten seconds...okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration. But still. They’re both getting out of there, no matter what it takes.


	12. Would You Kindly?

“ _ Here we are. _ ”

 

“ _ The moment of truth. _ ”

 

“ _ I don’t suppose he’ll be too pleased with what he’ll learn. _ ”

 

_ “About his past? Or the girl? _ ”

 

“ _ Hm. Both. I suppose it was unavoidable, however. _ ”

 

“ _ Keep in mind that this was  _ **_your_ ** _ idea, sister. _ ”

 

“ **_Our_ ** _ idea, brother. And of course. _ ”

 

_ “Which, do you suppose, will pain him more? Discovering that his past origins were built on lies, or his present friendships?” _

 

“ _ I suppose we’re about to find out. _ ”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

It’s cramped in here.

 

Granted, it really isn’t all that surprising, considering that it’s an air duct, but still. Jack’s almost too big to fit.

 

He sees a light at the end of the duct, and figures that that must be his exit. He prepares to crawl out, pulling out his wrench in advance (just in case--in Rapture, you could never be too careful.) As he reaches the end, he cranes his neck, trying and failing to see where he’ll be exiting. All he can see, however, is a wall that appears to be covered in paper--probably missing people posters. He uses his wrench to loosen the grate that blocks his exit, and prepares to jump down.

 

He ends up tumbling down instead, having slightly misjudged where he needed to go. His head hits something hard, and he groans as a table nearly falls over on top of him. He reacts just in time to catch it--though that doesn’t stop the numerous papers and a couple of EVE hypos from falling on top of him.

 

He groans again, setting the table right as he gets up, grabbing the hypos and stashing them before gathering up most of the papers and setting them back on the table. Satisfied with his work, he then turns around to find the nearest exit--and promptly stops breathing.

 

The wall he had thought was covered in missing people posters is, in fact, not--it’s covered in something else entirely. The first thing he notices--because, honestly, how could he  _ not  _ notice that first--are the words.

 

_ WOULD YOU KINDLY _

 

Jack suddenly feels an overwhelming sense of dread as he reads those words, over and over and over again as if in a trance. But why? They’re just words, right? Somehow, for some indiscernible reason, Jack doesn’t think so. Atlas had used those words--still uses them--but maybe it was just a coincidence.  _ That’s all it is,  _ Jack told himself.  _ A coincidence. _

 

He manages to tear his eyes away from the words--written in red--perhaps a crayon, or paint, or--Jack swallows as the thought comes to him and he realizes that it’s the most likely answer--blood. He scans the rest of the wall, looking for answers--to what questions, Jack doesn’t know.

 

He bumps into something then, and Jack looks down to realize that he’s been walking towards the wall this whole time. He had bumped into the table--he hadn’t realized there  _ was  _ a table--but then you couldn’t really explain how those papers were hanging like that all by themselves if there wasn’t one. He takes a step back, looking at the various papers and photographs littering the table.

 

There are a couple of him. Security cameras, Jack bets. There’s one close-up of his face, and another of him pointing his shotgun at the camera. There’s also a picture of his family--his mother, his father, and him. Jack gingerly picks up the photograph, not quite believing what he’s seeing.

 

“How the hell...” Jack wonders aloud, not really caring if anyone--or anything--hears him. “How the  _ hell  _ did this get down  _ here? _ ”

 

He remembers when they took this photo--it had been his mother’s birthday, and his father had wanted to get a picture with all of them. He remembers the photo being taken, and right after, their dog Cindy had come running up to them, knocking the camera off the stand and ruining the camera. As if that hadn’t been bad enough, her barking had caused the other animals nearby to go wild, making various noises and knocking over things in their respective pens. It had taken an hour or so to get them to all calm down. Fortunately, the film had been salvageable, and so they got the picture after all. Jack smiles as he recalls the incident, thinking for a moment before folding the picture and pocketing it.

 

He looks at the table again. There are two audio diaries sitting there; one propped up against the wall; and the other, lying on the table as if someone had tossed it there carelessly. He ignores them for now--his interest lies in figuring out what in God’s name this all means. He looks at the wall again, and this time, he notices a thin piece of red string connecting various pictures to each other. Jack steps back a bit more to get a better look.

 

In the center of it all is him, Jack Wynand--his picture is pinned to the wall, looking straight at him. He doesn’t remember this picture ever being taken; usually, when he knows his picture is being taken, he smiles like everyone else. He’s not smiling in this one. He looks...forlorn. Jack ignores that for now, and moves on.

 

To the picture’s upper right is a picture of a man; he looks regal, almost, with his handlebar moustache and his slicked back hair. The picture doesn’t have a label identifying the man, but he doesn’t need one--he knows that the man is Andrew Ryan, though he’s only ever heard his voice and seen his portrait on television screens. He frowns at the picture, resisting the urge to flip him off.

 

To Ryan’s left is a picture of a woman. Jack squints at the woman, trying to place her, but to no avail. He has no idea who she is. She looks solemn, her eyes looking at Jack with an air that Jack doesn’t know how to place. Her thick, flowing hair frames her young face, making her look like a movie star, or--

 

Jack glances at the label underneath the picture, and he can’t believe his eyes.

 

_ Jasmine Jolene,  _ it reads. He looks at the picture again in disbelief.

 

That was  _ her? _ Before...before Ryan…Jack doesn’t dare to finish the thought. Instead, he stares at the woman--Jasmine--for a bit longer, not quite believing that the rotting corpse he had encountered earlier in Eve’s Garden was the beautiful woman whose face looked out at him now. He notices a piece of string leading far away from the cluster of photos and to the far left side of the wall. Jack follows it and his eyes land on one of those promotional posters for Jasmine Jolene at some nightclub.

 

In that moment, he’s filled with a sense of sadness, looking back at the picture of Ryan and muttering, “Bastard,” angrily under his breath. She didn’t deserve what Ryan did to her. She couldn’t have know that this Fontaine guy had something to do with whatever she had done with her unborn child. Ryan had to pay. Not just for Moira and Patrick, but for Jasmine Jolene as well.

 

The thought reminds him that he needs to get going, but for some reason, he doesn’t move, doesn’t tear his eyes away from the wall. Instead, he moves on to the next photograph.

 

The man in Jasmine’s lower left looks at him with an almost smirk on his face, his eyes hiding a deceitful look in them. The man is broad and bald--Jack thinks he looks like a businessman. He already has a sneaking suspicion of who he might be--and when he looks at the name at the bottom of the photo, he sees his suspicions were correct.

 

_ Fontaine,  _ Jack reads. He doesn’t feel anything but curiosity (and perhaps some disgust, but mostly curiosity) when he looks at the man in the photo. For some reason, Fontaine seems vaguely familiar, as if Jack’s met him before--but that’s not right. He couldn’t possibly have--from what he’s heard in some of the audio diaries he’d picked up, Frank Fontaine was a con artist--a damn good one, at that. But Jack’s never been involved with anything like that in his life--he’s always lived on that farm on Wisconsin with his parents. Jack doesn’t--at least not consciously--recognize this man at all. Maybe Jack passed him by on the street or something while Fontaine was still living on the surface. Jack shrugs and moves on.

 

To Fontaine’s lower right is a photograph of another man, this one definitely not American. From the looks of it, Jack would say maybe Japanese or Korean. He is, judging by the photo, tall, and he wears a pair of glasses that slide off of his nose just the tiniest bit. He doesn’t recognize this man; he looks at the label to be sure.

 

_ Suchong.  _ Huh. That name sounds familiar…

 

He suddenly remembers a couple of audio diaries he had picked up, with the name Yi Suchong on them.  _ This must be him, then,  _  Jack thinks as he studies the man in the photo. There’s not much to look at here; Jack moves on quickly enough once he starts to get the feeling that he doesn’t just know Suchong from an audio diary.

 

To Suchong’s right is a photo of a woman with curly hair and a tight frown. She stares disapprovingly at Jack, and he’s once again hit with the feeling that  _ he knows her _ \--and he does. Unlike with Fontaine and Suchong, however, he recognizes her--though it takes him a few seconds, due to the shock of the whole situation.

 

_ Tenenbaum,  _ Jack thinks, staring right back at her with the same expression.  _ We meet again. _

 

He feels a strange sense of calm and comfort wash over him then--as if he were back at the farm instead of in this room, confronted with things he didn’t want to know about. He closes his eyes, letting the warm feeling take over until he opens his eyes, ready to move on. When he looks away from the photograph, the feeling dissipates, and Jack’s mind is back on track.

 

Seeing no other photographs on the wall (and not being able to read the papers due to the smudged ink and small lettering), he turns to leave--but then remembers the audio diaries.

 

He has a quick internal debate on whether or not he should before reaching out and grabbing the nearest one anyways, pressing play before he can change his mind.

 

“ _ Advanced Deployment, Lot 111 Dr. Suchong. Client: Fontaine Futuristics. Baby is now a year old, weighs 58 pounds and possesses gross musculature of a fit 19-year-old. The results are...disappointing, but within expected tolerances. _ ”

 

The audio diary ends, leaving a very confused Jack in its wake. He looks at the label on this particular audio diary: “Baby Status.”

 

Jack’s not sure he wants to listen to the other one.

 

He swallows his fear, however, and grabs the other one, looking at the label  _ before  _ pressing play this time: “Mind Control Test.”

 

...Okay, now he’s  _ sure  _ he doesn’t want to listen to the other one. But curiosity eventually gets the better of him, and after about a minute of stalling he finally presses play, preparing for the worst.

 

The same voice as before--Suchong’s--comes out of the machine, accompanied by the sound of a puppy yapping.

 

“ _ Is that your puppy? _ ” his voice asks, a little too sweetly for Jack’s liking. “ _ She’s very pretty. _ ”

 

“ _ Thank you, Papa Suchong, _ ”a little boy’s voice responds happily, clearly not hearing the deceit in the older man’s voice.

 

“ _ Break her neck for me. _ ”

 

Jack resists the urge to shut it off right then.

 

“ _...What? _ ”

 

“ _ Break that sweet puppy’s neck. _ ”

 

“ _ No… _ ” The little boy sounds terrified, and it makes Jack’s heart break for the poor kid. His heart beats even faster than before as the boy whimpers, “ _ Please… _ ”

 

“ _ Break that puppy’s neck...would you kindly? _ ”

 

His heart stops.

 

“ _No...no…_ ” The boy’s protests grow louder and more frantic as the puppy’s barking becomes more alarmed. It’s with a sickening _crack_ and a sob from the boy that the yapping ceases altogether.

 

“Very good,” Souchong says, sounding very pleased.

 

The audio diary stops, and Jack feels like throwing up--but he’s too shocked and horrified to move. Jack manages to close his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down. His hands are shaking, and he hardly notices when a loud  _ thunk  _ lets him know that the wrench is no longer in his hand. He doesn’t care. He’s too shaken to even notice when the audio diary slips from his hand as well, landing on the floor with a  _ crack. _

 

This room...this room is familiar and yet foreign to him. He feels like he should recognize it-- _ all  _ of it--but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know this place--Rapture--but he  _ does.  _ He knows he does, and that thought stops him cold.

 

He...he knows this place. He has...he remembers... _ something. _

 

Jack groans in frustration as the memory fades before he can remember it. He balls his hands into fists and does the most rational thing he can think of.

 

He punches the wall.

 

A flurry of papers and photos come raining down--though, not surprisingly, the photos Jack had looked at earlier were still in place, though the poster rattles for a few seconds before falling to the ground.

 

Another punch. More papers fly down, littering the floor. Jack’s breathing is ragged, and his mind is a confusing jumble of thoughts and emotions, more clouded and tangled up than he had realized. As if in a trance, Jack punches the wall, again and again and again until he feels something trickling down the side of his hand. He holds it up to his face--it’s bleeding. The sight of his own blood somehow snaps him out of his trance, and he grabs a first aid kit lying on a nearby table and bandages it up.

 

He takes a deep breath, calming himself before standing up again.

 

He can’t get angry right now. He can’t mourn right now. He can’t be  _ emotional  _ right now. He can’t. There’s still Ryan to deal with, and even after Ryan’s dead, he’ll still have to find a way out of here--the main entrance collapsed after he and Elizabeth went through it, and as far as Jack knows, there are no other entrances or exits. He’ll have to ask Atlas--

 

The thought of him sends a chill down his spine and a rush of anger through his veins, but he doesn’t know why--subconsciously, he thinks he does, but consciously, he has no idea. He shakes his head, remembering that his primary concern right now is Ryan, and once that son-of-a-bitch is lying dead on the floor Jack can worry about the other things.

 

With a final, deep breath, Jack grabs his wrench, steps on the audio diary for good measure, and heads out the door.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“ _ The assassin has overcome my final defense, and now, he's come to murder me. _ ”

 

The room is much too dark to see who is speaking, but Jack would know that voice anywhere--though, it’s much clearer without the buzz of an intercom in the background.

 

“Ryan.” He barely contains himself--he has to ball his hands and count to ten before he can continue. “You...” He can’t say anything else. He won’t let himself.

 

“Me,” he agrees, and the lights come on, revealing the man himself, in a crisp suit and tie.

 

Golf.

 

Andrew Ryan is about to die, and he’s...playing golf.

 

“In the end,” he continues, as though Jack hadn’t interrupted. “What separates a man from a slave? Money? Power? No.” Ryan straightens, and paces to the side to line up his shot. “A man  _ chooses. _ A slave obeys.”

 

He looks straight at Jack then, tilting his head and frowning as if observing an animal at the zoo. He casually leans on his golf club, watching as Jack tries to get a few words out through his anger.

 

“You’re going to pay for what you did to them,” Jack spits out, anger overruling any other emotion he might be feeling right now. “You  _ bastard.  _ You’re going to pay for it all. So if you’ve got anything to say, say it now, because you won’t be able to later.”

 

“And why might that be?” Ryan asks, an amused smile on his face.

 

Jack’s blood boils when he sees it, but he carefully checks himself, taking another deep breath before replying, in an oddly calm manner, “Because you’re going to hell, and I’m going to be the one who sends you there.”

 

The amused smile slips off of Ryan’s face; Jack smirks when he sees it. But Ryan quickly replaces it with a disappointed frown. “Of course, of course. But let me ask you something first: what do you remember?”

 

The question throws Jack off completely. “I--what? What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“What do you remember from before you came here?”

 

“Is this a trick question?” The anger is fading, being replaced by genuine confusion and irritation. “I don’t understand.”

 

Ryan is silent, so Jack takes a deep breath and decides to play along, God help him. “I remember my parents, Bill and Mary Wynand. I remember my home, a small farm in the middle of nowhere in Wisconsin. I remember--” Here he falters, trying to remember something else. But...he can’t. Why can’t he remember?

 

Ryan looks on smugly as Jack struggles to recall even the most trivial thing. “You think you have memories. A farm...a family. An airplane...a crash. And then this place.”

 

Jack is about to respond when he doubles over, visions flashing in his head; he sees his farmhouse, standing tall and proud, looming over him, as it always has. He sees himself, between his mother and father--in the same photograph he now has in his back pocket; he sees the back of a man’s head, the man sitting in front of him on Apollo Air Flight DF-0301; and he sees the tail of the plane, sinking into the deep, dark ocean below as Jack himself struggles to stay afloat.

 

Meanwhile, Ryan looks down to his game and carefully raises his arms to the side in preparation of a swing. “Was there  _ really _ a family?”

 

As the club connects with the ball, another image flashes before Jack’s eyes; a baby, one that Jack  _ swears  _ he’s seen before, sits on a cot beside a woman--Tenenbaum. A man--Suchong, Jack realizes, as he sees his face--holds a syringe and is standing beside the cot, not looking at either of them.

 

“Did that airplane crash,” Ryan continues dryly, studying a golf ball held in the tips of his fingers. “Or...was it hijacked?”

 

Another lost memory--are they memories? Jack isn't sure--comes into view, to his eyes only; an unwrapped present sits in his lap, carrying a gun and a note reading,  _ To Jack. With love from Mom & Dad. Would you kindly not open until: 63˚ 2˚ N, 29˚ 55˚ W. _

 

“Forced down,” Ryan is pacing again, and it makes Jack want to scream for no reason. “Forced down by something less than a man. Something bred to sleepwalk through life until they are activated by a simple phrase, spoken by their kindly master.” He pauses to look at Jack again, who by now is shaking violently, resisting the urge to scream and cry and throw up all at the same time. “Was a man sent to kill?” Ryan taunts, setting down his golf club and leaning against it. “Or a slave?” 

 

Jack can barely breathe right now. He doesn’t know what he feels--he doesn’t even know how he  _ should  _ feel. What is Andrew Ryan trying to say? He  tries to figure that out as Ryan turns and walks to the left, out of sight. “A man chooses. A slave obeys. Come in.”

 

As he speaks those last words, the door to Andrew Ryan’s office opens up, allowing him access to Ryan. But Jack doesn’t bolt as soon as it opens--the anger he had felt coming in here had long since dissipated, leaving him confused and terrified. Even so, Jack walks cautiously to the door, where the man himself stands, waiting for Jack with his golf club in hand.

 

Jack approaches, slightly scared of what Ryan is going to do or say. He’s not sure he can take much more of the truth--right now or ever.

 

“Stop, would you kindly?”

 

It’s as if someone had flipped a switch inside of him--suddenly, that familiar hazy feeling is back, and Jack no longer feels in control of his actions. This has happened before--every time Atlas had said those words. _But no,_ Jack thinks, now terrified as he obeys, stopping just in front of Ryan. _Atlas is my_ ** _friend_** _._ _He’d never...he_ ** _wouldn’t_** _..._

 

“‘Would you kindly…’” Ryan repeats. He steps closer, pointing his golf club at Jack. “Powerful phrase…” he murmurs, cradling the club in his hands. “Familiar phrase?”

 

Jack is starting to panic.  _ No, no, no...this can’t be happening. It can’t be… _

 

**_Would you kindly?_ **

 

_ Jack’s hands curl and uncurl as he tries out his Electro Bolt plasmid for the first time. _

 

**_Would you kindly?_ **

 

_ The first time he ever saw a Little Sister, singing as she gathered ADAM from a Splicer corpse. _

 

**_Would you kindly?_ **

 

_ Jack’s wrench connects with a Splicer head, sending her tumbling to the ground, dead. _

 

_ After that, the voice and the images shooting through his brain become too much, and he feels himself double over again as the pain increases. A Splicer being electrocuted in the water; a Little Sister crying over her Big Daddy, dead at the hands of Jack himself; Arcadia. _

 

**_Would you kindly_ ** _ head to Ryan’s office and  _ **_kill_ ** _ the son-of-a-bitch? _

 

_ The wall. He sees the wall again, the one with the photographs and the papers--only now, it all makes sense... _

 

“Sit,” a voice orders, and it takes Jack a moment to realize that it’s Ryan, not Atlas, speaking. “Would you kindly?” he adds, pointing his club at Jack.

 

Jack sits, the hazy feeling returning and taking away his free will for the moment. He wants to scream.

 

“Stand,” Ryan barks next, “Would you kindly?”

 

Ryan positions his golf club beneath Jack’s chin, forcing him to rise. His heart is beating faster than it ever has before, and his mind is fighting back against whatever is compelling him to listen to Ryan.

 

“Stop...stop, please,” Jack begs, panic inching its way into his voice as he struggles to fight the hazy feeling, to make it go away. “Stop it!”

 

Ryan doesn’t respond; instead, he shouts, “Run!”

 

Jack turns and runs to the other side of the room, fighting back tears as he does so. He tries to make himself stop, to  _ stop listening,  _  but to no avail.

 

“Stop!” Andrew Ryan speaks from behind, and Jack briefly wonders how he got there so fast. “Turn.”

 

Jack obeys, having no other choice. Ryan stands in front of him, studying his golf club as if it were a priceless antique.

 

“A man chooses…” He raises the club over his head, as if preparing to strike Jack with it. Jack wants to step back, to make sure that doesn’t happen, but he can’t move his feet--in fact, he can’t move any part of his body. He’s shaking, though--he feels like he’s going to throw up, again. He wants to shut his eyes tight and never open them up again, but he can’t. “A slave obeys.”

 

Ryan twirls the golf club in his hand, turning it the right way around before handing it to Jack, who takes it instinctively. “Kill!”

 

_ No. No no no. No! _

 

But his body won’t listen to his mind. Horrified, Jack watches as he swings the club at Ryan without a second thought, wincing in his mind when he hears the wet sound of blood squishing.

 

Andrew Ryan keels over, clutching at his face, a bloody gash covering the side of his cheek where the club had struck him. Though eh trembles and twitches, he manages to straighten in front of Jack, voice as steady as ever--thought, it might have been more effective if he hadn’t been coughing up blood.

 

“A..man... _ chooses… _ ” he gurgles out, stumbling towards Jack, who swallows, trying to speak--but nothing comes out.

 

Another strike. Jack actually winces this time as the club connects with Ryan’s head, creating another deep gash in the man’s face as he stumbles back, falling down on his hands and knees. Jack can feel Ryan’s blood on his face by now, and it makes him sick. Ryan struggles to get up, but when it becomes apparent that he can’t he settles for turning to Jack and looking up at him. “A slave... _ obeys! _ ”

 

_ Thwack.  _ Jack wants to look away, but his eyes fall on the golf club, now bent from beating Andrew Ryan to death--though he’s not dead yet--but he will be, soon. Just one more blow...

 

Ryan crawls over to him once more--but this time, he grabs the front of Jack’s sweater and pulls him close, allowing Jack to see the deep gashes he had created and the blood pouring from Ryan’s face. He pushes him away, clutching his fists and screaming, “ _ Obey! _ ”

 

This time, Jack holds the club with both hands, raising it above his head and bringing it down so hard that the head lodges in Ryan’s head and breaks off from the rest of the club--and Andrew Ryan finally falls over, dead.

 

Jack takes a moment for himself, shutting his eyes as tightly as he can and ignoring everything else that’s happening.

 

He did it. Andrew Ryan is dead at his hands.

 

...And Atlas is a traitor.

 

He was never Jack’s friend--he knows that now. He’s nothing but a pawn to Atlas--if that’s even his real name. From the beginning, Atlas had controlled him using those words-- _ would you kindly,  _ a voice in Jack’s head mocked. He must have orchestrated this entire thing--his coming to Rapture and his entire journey up to this point. Drops of blood trickle down his palm as he clenches his fists, his nails digging into the flesh there and breaking the skin. He had trusted Atlas with his life, and Atlas--or rather, the man he had come to know as Atlas--had been playing him all along. 

 

Andrew Ryan had been right. There were no memories, save for the ones he had created here. There was no family--save for the scientists who had created him. There was no plane crash--Jack remembers clearly now. He had murdered the pilot and sentenced all of those innocent people to death. They were all dead because of him.

 

Except for Elizabeth.

 

Elizabeth hadn’t died because of him--not yet, at least. She’s still here, waiting for him outside of Ryan’s office---at least, Jack hopes she is. He doesn’t think he can stand it if she’s either dead or gone when he gets back. She’s his only friend down here, save for Atlas--but Atlas is no friend. Not anymore.

 

What if she were playing him too, though? He knows she’s been lying to him, perhaps ever since they met. He doesn’t know if she’s ever told him the truth--she’s basically Atlas with a new face. She could be working for Atlas, making sure that he never found out the truth. It was certainly a possibility. And yet…

 

He’s still convinced she’s different. He trusts her with his life--but he had also trusted Atlas, hadn’t he? Whenever Atlas had told him to do something, he’d done it. Whenever Atlas had reassured him that everything was going to be okay,  _ you’ll see the sun again, boyo,  _ he’d believed it. Atlas had been his friend, too--but she was different. She had wanted to confess, hadn’t she? He’s no fool--he knows her talk about him being her friend wasn’t what was  _ really  _ on her mind. But she had still been honest. Maybe it hadn’t been what she’d really wanted to talk about, but she still does see him as a friend. So she  _ is  _ different, at least, different from  _ him.  _ From the start, she had toughed it out alongside him--through all of the Splicers, the Big Daddies, the threat of death around every corner of this failed dream. She had saved his life countless times, and he had done the same for her. She has to be real. She  _ has  _ to be. After Atlas, Jack  _ needs  _ her to be real.

 

He takes a deep breath, opening his eyes, and that’s when he hears his radio crackle to life and the person he loathes the most speaks to him, still pretending like he’s his  _ friend,  _ after everything he’s learned.

 

“ _ Is it done? Is he dead? _ ”

 

Jack wants nothing more than to grab the radio and rage at Atlas, confronting him about everything he’s done to him, and ask  _ why.  _ But he doesn’t--instead, he grabs his radio, and says, “Yeah. The son-of-a-bitch is finally gone.”

 

“ _ Thank God. Hurry, now, grab Ryan’s genetic key! _ ”

 

Jack wants to tell him to fuck off, but then he remembers that, Atlas or no, the place is still going to self-destruct if Jack doesn’t do this, and so he kneels down and fishes Ryan’s genetic key off of his corpse, trying his best not to look at the body in question for too long.

 

“Got it.”

 

“ _ Great. Now would you kindly put it in the goddamn machine?! _ ”

 

Jack’s heart skips a couple of beats as he utters those three words, and prepares for the hazy feeling to overtake him again. Sure enough, it does, and Jack finds himself heading towards the machine Atlas had indicated and sliding the genetic key into the slot.

 

Somehow, Jack knows what’s going to happen next before it does.

 

He hears the radio crackle to life at his hip, Atlas taking a deep breath. “ _ Nice work, boyo! _ ” he says, with an exaggerated voice. Then he laughs. It takes all of Jack’s self-restraint not to crush the radio in his hands as Atlas finishes cackling, his thoughts focused on finding the son-of-a-bitch and tearing him to pieces.

 

“It’s time to end this little masquerade. There ain’t no ‘Atlas’, kid. Never was. Someone in my line of work takes on a variety of aliases. Hell, once, I was even a Chinaman for six months. But you’ve been a sport, so I guess I owe you a little honesty. Name’s--”

 

“Frank Fontaine.” Both Fontaine and Jack speak in unison. The Irish accent is gone, replaced with a thick Bronx accent. Jack wants to scream--another lie. Will they ever end?

 

“ _...How did you-- _ ”

 

“Ryan told me everything. You  _ bastard, _ ” he growls, actually beginning to crush the radio in his hands. He loosens his grip before he can destroy it completely, however. “I’m going to find you, Fontaine. I’m going to find you and  _ tear your goddamn heart out. _ ”

 

“ _Aw, how_ **_cute_** _,_ ” Fontaine cackles. Jack really wishes he’d stop that. “ _You think you can take me, kid? You’re welcome to try._ ”

 

“You can be sure I’ll take you up on that offer.”

 

“ _ Kid, you won’t even make it out of this room. But you know, I’m not the only playing a charade. Your friend there...Elizabeth? She’s playing you for a fool, too. _ ”

 

At the mention of Elizabeth, Jack stiffens, some of the anger leaving him to be replaced with fear; not just for what Atlas--Fontaine--is about to tell him, but for Elizabeth’s safety as well. Is Fontaine going to hurt Elizabeth? Even worse...would he force  _ him  _ to hurt her?

 

“I know.”

 

“ _ Ryan tell you that, too? _ ” He sounds irritated, but at Ryan or Jack, Jack isn’t sure. He supposes it could be both, though.

 

“No. I figured it out on my own. I’m not stupid,” he spits angrily.

 

“ _ But you’re not smart enough to know when a man is playing you for the long con, eh? I’ll bet you didn’t know that everything she’s told you is a lie. _ ”

 

Jack knows this already, but it doesn’t make Fontaine saying it any less painful. “Actually, I did. What’s your point?”

 

“ _ She wasn’t on that plane with you, you know. She was in Rapture long before that, kid. Helped me get the trigger phrase to control you and everything. What a sport. Oh, and she worked with Cohen, too. She was his ‘little Songbird’, if I recall correctly. Don’t know much about that, but hey--you’ve seen the posters, haven’t’cha? Not to mention, she killed a guy--don’t know who he was, don’t care. He wasn’t a Splicer, though, that’s for damn sure. Kid, trust me--she’s been lying to you from the start, and she’s a bad person. Kinda like me, eh? I guess you have a type. _ ” He chuckles.

 

Jack can’t believe what he’s hearing. He can’t. He refuses to. So he does the only thing he can think of. “You’re lying.”

 

“ _ Oh, of course. And I suppose you think I got that activation phrase all by myself when it was in Suchong’s clinic and I was at the bottom of Rapture? _ ”

 

“That doesn’t mean it was her!” Jack is actually screaming now, and he doesn’t want to stop.

 

He’s lying. He  _ has  _ to be lying. Sure, Elizabeth had probably lied about everything from the plane crash to her own name, but that didn’t mean she was a traitor like Fontaine. She would  _ never  _ betray him, not like that--would she?

 

“ _ Sure, sure. I’m totally lying. Oh, quick question--does your ‘friend’ happen to have a bird pendant pinned to her blouse? _ ”

 

“I--I don’t...” She did. Elizabeth did indeed have a bird pendant pinned to her blouse--he had asked about it once, and she had told him that her father had bought it for her. But how did Fontaine know about that?

 

“ _ I’m tellin’ ya, kid--she sold you out before you even got here. Willingly, too. Offered up the information and everything. What a whore. _ ”

 

Jack can’t even bring himself to speak.

 

He had been right. Elizabeth had been lying to him from the beginning, about everything--where she had come from, what she was doing there, having never spliced before, the posters, about being his  _ friend _ \--all of it. He wants nothing more than to find her and demnad to know  _ why, why did you lie to me, I thought we were friends,  _ but he can’t. He can’t move, he can’t breathe--he feels like going to sleep and never waking up again. Involuntarily, he looks to his pistol, and he can’t remember if the barrel is empty or not.

 

“ _ I guess this is goodbye then, kid. I gotta say, I had a lot of business partners in my life, but you…’course, the fact that you were genetically conditioned to bark like a cocker spaniel when I said ‘would you kindly’  _ **_might’ve_ ** _ had something to do with it...but still. Now, as soon as that machine finishes processing the genetic key you fished off Ryan, I’m gonna run Rapture tits to toes. You’ve been a pal, but you know what they say...never mix business with friendship. Thanks for everything, kid. Don’t forget to say ‘hi’ to Ryan for me. _ ”


	13. The Moment of Truth...Kinda

“ _ Well, that didn’t quite go as expected. _ ”

 

“ _ How do you mean, sister? It went exactly as expected. The boy found out, and the girl refused to divulge her secret. What on earth were you expecting? _ ”

 

“ _ I’m not entirely sure. I certainly wasn’t expecting physical violence--though I was afraid it would go there. At least he didn’t threaten her with the wrench--that would have been disastrous. _ ”

 

“ _ And our current end result isn’t? _ ”

 

“ _ Well, it could have been worse. _ ”

 

“ _ Indeed. _ ”

 

_ The two are silent for a moment before Robert speaks up, interrupting the silence that had fallen.  _ “ _ What do we do now? _ ”

 

“ _ The only thing we can, _ ” _ Rosalind amends, turning away from her brother. _ “ _ Sit back and watch the show. _ ”

 

_ Robert frowns. _ “ _ But still, shouldn’t we do something? Perhaps the girl would comfort in our presence. _ ”

 

_ Rosalind scoffs. _ “ _ I doubt it. After all, we’re the ones truly responsible for this whole mess. I’m sure if she saw us, she wouldn’t hesitate to try and put a bullet in us...not that it would do her any good, _ ”  _ she adds thoughtfully after a moment.  _ “ _ But perhaps...perhaps, now that the boy has found out the truth, the girl should as well. Shall we pay a certain scientist a visit, brother? _ ”

 

_ Robert takes her arm in his own. _ “ _ I believe we shall. _ ”

 

~*~*~*~*~  
  


“Are you okay?”

 

Elizabeth jumps at the voice breathing in her ear, whipping around to face whoever had spoken and coming face-to-face with a little girl, no older than--five, maybe six? The little girl jumps back at the sudden movement, looking wary as Elizabeth takes a deep breath and smiles--though, as soon as she does, she feels like crying all over again. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine,” she says with as much conviction as she can muster--which isn’t much.

 

The little girl cocks her head to the side, a frown appearing on her face. “Why was Mister Jack yelling at you?”

 

“I--” She swallows, taking another deep breath to prevent herself from crying. “I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

 

That answer doesn’t seem to satisfy the girl, as she crosses her arms and stares at Elizabeth defiantly. “Why not?”

 

“Because--” she stops herself before she can raise her voice further. “I just need to be alone right now. Okay?”

 

“Why?”

 

At this point, Elizabeth is fed up. She just wants to be left alone, damnit, why is that so hard to understand? She takes a deep breath to steady herself, closing her eyes and concentrating. The kid’s only been talking to her for a few seconds and already she’s pissed at her. Elizabeth needs to calm down; the kid didn’t do anything wrong, and to yell at her would be pointless, not to mention mean.

 

Just as Elizabeth reaches a sense of calm, the girl decides to shatter it by asking, “Mister Jack said you lied to him. Why?”

 

At the mention of Jack, Elizabeth feels like crawling in a hole and dying--again. “I...I don’t know,” she sighs, the anger at the girl for being pestered dissipating almost instantly. “I should have told him the truth. I should have, but I didn’t. I’m a bad person. A really, really bad person. I shouldn’t have lied to him. I shouldn’t have listened to the Luteces, I shouldn’t have given Atlas the activation phrase...if I’d never come to Rapture, none of this would have ever happened. That makes me a bad person.” She’s not making any sense--she knows she isn’t, she’s rambling, and when a person rambles they aren’t supposed to make sense. She supposes it doesn’t matter anyways--the girl probably doesn’t understand anything she’s saying anyways.

 

The girl laughs, apparently unconcerned that Elizabeth’s not making a lick of sense--confirming Elizabeth’s theory that she didn’t understand a word. “No it doesn’t! Everyone lies sometimes. The other day, I was playing dolls with Emma, and I wanted one of her dresses so I asked her to trade it with me for an even better one! But the one I gave her was ugly! She got mad, so I gave it back. But that doesn’t--”

 

“ _ Masha! Leave her alone, she has been through enough. _ ”

 

The girl--Masha--jumps, turning around to face Tenenbaum marching towards Masha with an apologetic look in Elizabeth’s direction as the scientist ushers the young girl away. She looks down at Elizabeth, a frown appearing on her face. “Are you alright? I heard screaming earlier, when you were talking to Herr Jack.”

 

“It’s...nothing.” At Tenenbaum’s unconvinced look, she adds (perhaps a bit too defensively), “Really. I’m good.”

 

“Hm.” Tenenbaum still looks unconvinced. “Have you spoken to him since? No doubt he will need some help, what with--”

 

“Then  _ you _ provide it,” Elizabeth interrupts, quite harshly. “I don’t want to talk to him right now, and Lord knows, he doesn’t want to talk to me. I’m done being his sidekick.”

 

Tenenbaum narrows her eyes, but then her expression softens. Perhaps sensing that Elizabeth needs some time, she sighs, nods, and says, “Let me know if I can be of any help. And, Fraulein Comstock? Perhaps...you  _ should  _ tell him the truth, whatever that may be. From what I’ve seen, he can be quite forgiving.” She kneels down and places a hand on her shoulder, perhaps as an act of comfort, but the only thing Elizabeth feels is guilt.

 

“Not with me, he can’t,” she mutters, knocking away Tenenbaum’s hand and hugging herself tightly. “He’s never going to forgive me. He  _ shouldn’t _ forgive me. Not after everything I’ve done. To him, to Sally...dare I say it, even to Booker and Comstock. I  _ can’t _ be forgiven for what I’ve done to all of them. I  _ can’t. _ ”

 

Tenenbaum sighs, as if she knew this was coming. “Fraulein Comstock--”

 

“I’m  _ not  _ Comstock,” she spits angrily, that burning fire of seething hatred filling her up again. “I’m  _ not.  _ I’m…I’m nothing like him. I’m  _ nothing  _ like him!”

 

She probably should have taken into account that Tenenbaum has no idea who she was talking about, and so to her Elizabeth’s statement is completely random and shows her in an unstable mindset--but nevertheless, despite the confused look on the other woman’s face, the scientist continues. “--you have committed many sins, but perhaps you can find some redemption. Tell Jack what you know,  _ Kind,  _ and perhaps...perhaps you can be redeemed.”

 

Elizabeth laughs humorlessly. “There’s no redemption for people like me. I’ve killed innocent people, hurt countless others, all in the name of a mission. A selfish mission that eventually got me killed. I didn’t even care that I was going to die, that I  _ might  _ die, so long as Comstock got what was coming to him. I didn’t care who got hurt, or who died, so long as he did too. So I don’t know about  _ you,  _ Dr. Tenenbaum, but I’m not sure ‘redemption’ is in the cards for me--or for you, for that matter.”

 

At her last words, Tenenbaum’s eyes narrow again, this time, with a dangerous look in them that even Elizabeth fears. “I too have committed many atrocities. But unlike you, I am willing to do what’s necessary to right those wrongs. Perhaps you should take a page out of my book,” she says coldly, before standing up and heading back to her office, leaving Elizabeth sitting on the floor of the nursery--by herself, just like she wanted. Unfortunately, that gives her plenty of time to think…

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“ _ And now you’ve got hooked up with Tenenbaum, huh, kid? She’s a regular Mother Goose. All right, fun’s fun, kid, but now...go get stepped on by a Big Daddy, would you kindly? _ ”

 

Jack’s heart stops at the words, his breath catching in his throat. Despite Tenenbaum’s previous reassurances that that particular phrase no longer works on him, he still can’t help but feel anxious as he waits for the foggy feeling to cloud his mind and take away his control once more, as it has so many times before.

 

But nothing happens.

 

Jack breathes a sigh of relief, but quickly shuts his mouth once he realizes that Fontaine can probably hear him. And, because the universe  _ clearly  _ has it out for him, he does. The loud thumping of Jack’s heartbeat nearly drowns out the confused noise that Fontaine makes, clearly not understanding why Jack isn’t dead yet.  _ It wouldn’t do much good anyways,  _ Jack thinks, a bit smug as Fontaine wonders aloud what the hell is going on as he repeats his command.  _ I’d just get revived at a Vita-Chamber. Unless he shut them all down somehow?  _ The thought fills Jack with panic-- _ actually, _ he thinks, his heart starting to race faster (if that’s even  _ possible _ ),  _ that’s probably the first thing he did. The bastard. _

 

Well. Shit.

 

If that’s the case, Jack is now as mortal as the average Joe. No more resurrections for him--starting now, any battle could be his last. Despite the fact that the last time he had even  _ used _ a Vita-Chamber was before he had even met Elizabeth--his stomach churns at the thought of her, but he pushes aside both the unpleasant feeling and the memories threatening to rise to the surface of his mind for later, because  _ this is more important _ \--he feels terrified that now that’s he’s lost his life insurance, he’s sure to slip up and get himself killed--again--permanently. The knowledge that he’s made it this far without dying again  _ does _ giving him some much needed confidence that he can hold his own, though--even against Fontaine, should it come to that.  _ It better,  _ Jack spits in his own mind, anger replacing the panic.  _ I’m not leaving here until I’ve gutted that son-of-a-bitch like he deserves. _

 

“ _...Ah. Seems like Mother Goose has been playing around in your egg salad. If you won’t dance to that tune, I got others.  _ **_Code Yellow._ ** ”

 

Jack’s not sure what happens next--not exactly, anyways. As soon as Fontaine utters that phrase, Jack’s heart stops for a split second; a burst of white-hot pain surges through Jack’s body, causing him to double over and clutch at his heart, gasping for air. Fontaine cackles on the other end of the radio, and Jack can  _ hear  _ the smile on his face. He really hopes he gets to kill him soon. That is, if this excruciating pain doesn't kill  _ Jack  _ first.

 

“ _ I just told your brain to tell your heart to stop beating. Not right off the bat, mind you. The heart’s a stubborn muscle. But, _ ” he pauses to chuckle, a sinister sound that resounds in Jack’s skull and makes him want to punch his own lights out, “ _ Not that stubborn. _ ”

 

“Oh, you  _ son-of-a- _ **_bitch_ ** _ , _ ” Jack wheezes out, the pain finally beginning to subside; he stands, still clutching his heart, and he glares at the radio attached to his hip.  _ If looks could kill. Oh, if  _ **_only_ ** _.  _ “When I find you--”

 

“ _Kid, you'll be too dead to do_ _anything. If you're not, though--well, you_ ** _will_** _be. That’s a promise I'm willing to keep._ ”

 

“Screw you.”

 

Fontaine laughs before falling silent, leading Jack to believe that he’s finished taunting him. Once it becomes apparent that that is, in fact, the case, Jack sighs. He stands there for a few more minutes before deciding that the best course of action would be to find a way out--and he does, but as he moves to turn the wheel--or at least, Jack  _ assumes  _ it’s a wheel, he doesn’t know this kind of stuff--he realizes that there’s slight problem. It’s missing, and it’s nowhere to be found.  _ Maybe it’s back at the Sanctuary? _

 

He could ask Tenenbaum. Surely she’d know; after all, this  _ is  _ her turf. She probably knows every square inch of this place. Or maybe--maybe he could ask...

 

No.

 

No, he’ll ask Tenenbaum. She’s a smart woman, surely she knows where it is--or at least, where he might find it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jack knows who the better option is--more than likely she’d have already found it by now, in fact, but he doesn’t want to think about that. About  _ her.  _ Not if he doesn’t have to, anyways.

 

...If he ever gets out of here, he’s going to take a class or something to get some self-control, because he clearly doesn’t have any. He closes his eyes and takes a deep, deep breath, hoping that will help in stemming the numerous thoughts racing through his mind--all of them about her. He feels the urge to just  _ give in _ \--after all, the sooner the thoughts are out of his head, the better.

 

But no.

 

No, he can’t.  _ He can’t.  _ Fontaine did something to him, a failsafe of sorts, he supposes--and if Jack doesn’t find the cure to the mind control, he’s going to die in this place just like every other sorry soul he’s come across. He can’t think about Elizabeth right now, because he knows that if he does she’ll be all he thinks about, and he can’t afford that right now. There will be plenty of time to think later, once it’s over. Once it’s over, once Fontaine is dead--and he’s sitting in a bathysphere headed towards the surface, leaving this--this  _ place _ \--behind, never to return. At the thought of Rapture as a whole, Jack stops, a dozen thoughts rushing through his mind all at once. He’d...never really thought about it like that before--which was weird, considering all of the times he’d thought of getting out, but now that the idea is stuck in his head he can’t seem to get it out.

 

This place...it’s terrible. Everywhere Jack turns, there’s either a Little Sister draining blood from a corpse, a Big Daddy waiting to drill his face in if he even so much as  _ looks  _ at its Sister, or a Splicer--or a dozen--waiting to get the drop on him. It’s a hellhole--there’s no other word for it--doomed from the start. Now, this--this  _ place _ , this  _ hellhole _ , this  **_nightmare_ ** \--is nothing more than the broken husk of a forgotten dream. Jack knows that it wasn’t always that way, though. He may not have any memories of his previous time here, but he knows one thing for certain: once upon a time, Rapture was  _ alive.  _ No more than two years ago, this place was truly marvelous, filled with the hopes and dreams of its people-- _ actual people,  _ with families and loved ones and lives that didn’t involve wandering around in a drug-induced haze, wanting nothing but their next fix. Jack suddenly feels nostalgic for days that he’s never known, days when Rapture wasn’t so dark and gloomy, when the Splicers weren’t so spliced, and you could actually find an honest person around a corner or two. But it’s gone, now--the Rapture dream is over, gone--and he’s the sole survivor. He’s the last man standing in a society gone mad from too much money and too much power mixed together. Once this whole mess is cleaned up, he’ll be gone, leaving a once great man’s dream to die, to fade from memory as years upon years pass by like nothing, until Jack is the only one who remembers.

 

Because he’ll never forget. He’ll never forget what this place has done to him, to others-- _ good  _ others, like Julie Langford and Brigid Tenenbaum. Like Anya Andersdotter and the Lutz family. Like Bill McDonagh. Like the Little Sisters and the Big Daddies--the men in the metal suits, condemned to wander the halls of Rapture with no memories of their former lives and no hope for salvation, unlike their ghoulish companions. Like some of the Splicers he’d encountered, begging for things to go back to the way they were before, to see their loved ones again; to actually  _ live,  _ and not just in some drug-induced fever dream. Like...like Elizabeth.

 

The thought of his former companion snaps him out of his reverie, and he shakes his head in an attempt to clear it. His head still aches--though, he  _ can _ think clearly again, so there’s that. He’s not sure if the aching is a result of the phrase Fontaine had used or from the jumble of thoughts his mind had foolishly tried to focus on all at the same time. Probably the former, as both his chest and left leg also ache. He sighs, wondering when it will wear off--if it ever does. It’s beginning to feel numb now. He sits down on a nearby storage crate, breathing heavily as he tries to simultaneously ignore the pain and think of a plan.

 

“Well, I’m stuck here until the numbness wears off, so that probably rules out the possibility of me searching for another way out.” He sighs again, closing his eyes to better concentrate on his thoughts and not the pain beginning to crawl up his torso. He glares at his leg, where the pain is stemming from, as if that will make the problem go away. A thought strikes him as he glances at his hip, where his radio is still attached. “I guess now would be as good a time as any to radio Tenenbaum for help…”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“ _ Put that away! You know you can’t have that, give it back... _ **_Es tut mir Leid, Herr Jack,_ ** _ what were you saying? _ ”

 

Jack barely resists the urge to laugh at the sounds in the background--it sounded like one of the girls had grabbed a candy bar or some other kind of treat and is now  _ refusing _ to part with it. He settles for smiling instead as he listens to Tenebaum and the girl bicker about the candy bar, the scientist arguing that she’s already had three, she doesn’t need another one, and the girl arguing back that it’s not for her, it’s for someone else (Jack hadn’t caught the name that the girl had provided, but he doubts it’s someone he knows anyways, so he doesn’t mind). Judging by the conversation, Tenenbaum has her hands full harboring more than fifteen little girls all under the age of ten, and Lord knows, he’s the last person that wants to disturb her. Unfortunately for both of them, however, he needs her help, which means letting the girl get away with having one more candy bar in favor of assisting Jack. He feels bad about that, but doesn’t think it would do much good to let Tenenbaum know that. “I was saying that--”

 

“ _ For the last time, no, I’m not going to give it to you. _ ”

 

Jack frowns. “Uh, what?”

 

“ _ You hit Lindsey. You don’t get your doll back until you apologize to her. Now go. Shoo! _ ”

 

“Tenenbaum, what are you--”

 

“ _ I said, shoo! Go on! _ ” Tenenbaum is silent for a moment, during which time Jack can hear the faint whining of a little girl in the background--and finally he understands.

 

_ Ooohhh. She wasn’t talking to  _ **_you_ ** _ , you dolt.  _ Jack feels a bit stupid for not realizing it sooner--but then again, she  _ had  _ sounded like she was talking to him…

 

“Tenenbaum?”

 

“ _ Yes? _ ”

 

“Er...what I wanted to talk to you about?” He waits for a moment to make sure he has her attention, and when she gives an impatient sound on the other end he knows he has it. He begins to talk quickly, aiming to get at least most of his words out before they are interrupted again. “Okay, so, I found my way out of the Sanctuary and into the sewers, which are surprisingly clean, by the way, and found my way out. Only problem is, you need a wheel thingy to open the door, but it’s missing and I can’t find it. I don’t have enough brute strength to lift the door by myself and I’m out of explosives, so force isn’t an option. Also, I can’t really move, because Fontaine said some weird phrase thingy that he said would ‘make my heart stop beating’ or whatever. I assume that’s what you meant by ‘unpleasant strings?’ Anyways, my left leg and my chest feel pretty numb, and I’m guessing that taking the antidote will make it go away, but unfortunately I can’t  _ get  _ to the antidote, because I can’t move and the stupid wheel thingy is gone.” He takes a deep breath afterwards, waiting for Tenenbaum’s response. He supposes the worst one she can give would be, “There’s nothing I can do, sorry,” or maybe, “Wait, what?” That one would  _ really  _ suck.

 

Finally (and thankfully) she responds with neither option. “ _ Hm. You say you are immobilized?  _ **_Scheisse._ ** _ This is a problem. I suppose there is nothing you can do for now except either persevere or wait for it to wear off. However, the second option might take time we do not have. It would probably be best if you...how do you Americans say this? ‘Suck it up.’ You  _ **_will_ ** _ recover soon, Herr Jack, do not worry. In fact, moving around might actually  _ **_accelerate_ ** _ the process. As you have speculated, yes, the antidote will cure you, but only if you get to it in time. But anyways. Onto the next problem. The ‘wheel thingy,’ as you say, must be around the sewers somewhere. I assume you have already tried looking for it? Perhaps it is buried under some trash, or hidden in a storage crate. Maybe it is stashed in a corner. Look  _ **_everywhere_ ** _ , Herr Jack. If you do not find that wheel, you will not be able to get out and stop Fontaine. _ ”

 

Jack nods his head, then remembers that Tenenbaum can’t see him. “Thanks, Tenenbaum. That’s good to know. Funny, isn’t it, how something so small and seemingly insignificant can mean so much?”

 

“ **_Ja._ ** _ It reminds me of-- _ **_Hallo! Was denkst du eigentlich, was Du hier machst? Kommen Sie gleich wieder!_ ** ”

 

If Jack ever gets out of here, he’s going to learn how to speak German. Distantly, he wonders if Elizabeth knows German--but he stops that train of thought before it can leave the station.  _ Better to not think about that,  _ he reminds himself. He focuses on Tenenbaum’s voice, which is still (unintentionally) shouting rapid German into his ear. He waits for what seems like forever until she finally starts speaking to him again--but in German.

 

“Tenenbaum,” he interrupts her. It sounds like she was in the middle of a sentence, but Jack can’t be sure. “I--I don’t speak German.”

 

“ _ Hm? Ach! Of course, of course. Forgive me, Herr Jack...I was simply saying that if you don’t find the wheel, I do have some explosives here that might work. And Fraulein Elizabeth could-- _ ”

 

At the mention of  _ her  _ name, Jack stiffens. “No thanks,” he says. “I mean, thanks for the explosives. I might need those, actually. But Elizabeth isn’t coming anywhere  _ near  _ me, do you understand? I’ve had enough of her lies.” He can’t help the bitterness that seeps into his voice when he thinks about it. “I don’t want anything to do with her.”

 

“ _ Herr Jack, you must understand. What she did-- _ ”

 

“What she  _ did _ is inexcusable. She could have stopped this-- _ all of this _ \--if she had just  _ told me the truth _ . How can you be taking her side, after everything she’s done?”

 

Tenenbaum is silent. Jack waits for a response, but he doesn’t really expect one. If anything, she probably disconnected, which is fine, since Jack has all the information he needs to continue. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to kill him,” he mutters to himself. “I’m going to slice that son-of-a-bitch in  _ half _ .”

 

A sigh comes from the radio, and Jack looks at it again, surprised. So Tenenbaum  _ hadn’t _ disconnected. Huh. “Once you are free of Fontaine’s control, then you can have your revenge...and we can keep my little ones out of his filthy hands.”

 

Jack closes his eyes, taking a moment to collect himself before responding. “I couldn’t agree more, Tenenbaum. Don’t worry, I’ll take him down, and you and the girls will be free to do whatever you want. Thanks for the help, I appreciate it.”

 

“It is no trouble, Herr Jack--” and then she yelps. Jack immediately feels a sense of dread wash over him at the sound.  _ No, no, no,  _ he panics inwardly, shifting on the storage crate uneasily.  _ He can’t have. He  _ **_can’t_ ** _ have gotten to them already. There’s no way. _

 

But then Tenenbaum quells his fears with a couple of words, and Jack can breathe again. “ **_Entschuldigen Sie, Herr Jack._ ** _ I’m fine...eh...one of the girls just startled me. Do--do you need anything else? _ ”

 

She sounds spooked out of her mind, but Jack ignores the worried feeling festering in the pit of his stomach because, well,  it’s  _ Tenenbaum,  _ the woman who keeps a gun close to her at all times and knows how to use it. Secure in that knowledge, he says, “No, that’s it. Thanks again.”

“ **_Ja. Bleib sicher, mein Kind._ ** ” And then she’s gone, presumably to deal with whomever had spooked her. Jack wonders if it was Candy Bar girl. He shrugs nonetheless--time to get to work.

 

He takes a deep breath before slowly lifting himself off of the storage crate and down onto the floor, where he takes another look around. From here, he can’t see much--certainly nothing that looks like it might be hiding a wheel. He twists his torso around, opening the crate he had been sitting on and finding an EVE hypo and a first aid kit but no wheel. He sighs, but pockets the items for later--at least it hadn’t been a total waste. He makes to get up, and the process is agonizingly slow--he grimaces the entire time. Finally, he’s standing, and, even better, he sees something shiny poking out from behind a mound of...whatever that grayish-brownish stuff is. Jack thinks it’s probably for the best if he doesn’t think about it too hard.

 

He hobbles over to the shiny object, and--sure enough, there is his wheel. Looking at it now, though, Jack realizes that it’s probably not a wheel at all, and Jack feels just a little bit stupid for calling it one; but in his defense, what else is he supposed to call it? He doesn’t know what it is, so ‘wheel’ will have to do. He picks it up, and  _ wow is it heavy _ \--but he manages to get it over to where it’s supposed to go and a few minutes later, the door is open. Jack grins as he looks ahead; no signs of life so far, which is good. The smile doesn’t leave his face as he walks out the door, making sure to go as fast as he can--after all, he doesn’t know if the door is one of those “limited time” things, and he’d rather not find out. He only stops when he hears the tell-tale laugh of a Nitro Splicer, followed by a loud explosion.  _ Fantastic,  _ he thinks bitterly, limping towards an overturned food cart for cover.  _ Life just keeps getting better. Why does everything happen to me? _

 

The thought flits through Jack’s mind as he fires another shot at the offending Nitro Splicer, who retaliates by throwing a grenade his way. Jack barely has time to roll out of the way before the thing explodes, destroying his cover and nearly setting his pants on fire.

 

_ I ask again: why does  _ **_everything_ ** _ happen to  _ **_me_ ** _? _

 

Jack doesn’t have time to ponder the answer to that question as he rolls out of the way of yet another explosion, this one far too close to his head for comfort.  _ Rolling out of the way of an explosive while one of your legs and the lower half of your torso is numb is not as easy as it looks, _ he muses as he repeats the action for a third time. He fires another bullet at the Splicer, and another, and-- _ click.  _ Jack panics, looking down at his gun in horror. He tries again.  _ Click. Click. _

 

“No, no, no,” he mumbles, shaking the gun as if that will solve the problem. He looks up just in time to see another Splicer (though this one, thankfully, is a simple Thuggish) charging towards him with his pipe raised. Jack has just enough time to duck before the Thuggish is swinging at him, yelling right in his face.

 

Once he sees that he missed, he screams again, raising his pipe over his head with the intent to bash Jack’s brains out. Jack, who is laying on the ground right in front of the deranged maniac with no chance of escape and no ammo, takes a deep breath before deciding to do something incredibly stupid that he  _ knows  _ Elizabeth would yell at him for were she here.

 

Just as the Splicer brings down the pipe, Jack lunges forward onto his knees and grabs his wrists, stopping his pipe just above his head. Jack’s not exactly sure what he was trying to accomplish, but, looking at the Splicer struggling to get his wrists free, he decides that it’s the best course of action. Using as much strength as he can muster, he pulls the Thuggish Splicer towards him, rolling out of the way just in time to not be crushed by the falling man’s weight. As both he and the Splicer struggle to get up, Jack fires an Electro Bolt his way, electrocuting the psychopath where he stands in a puddle of water. A few moments later, the Splicer falls over, dead.

 

Jack grins as he rolls over on his stomach, using the floor beneath him to balance his hands and regain a standing position. He looks over at the corpse of his fallen foe. “What a shocking turn of events,” he says, still smiling wide. He knows if Elizabeth were here, he’d get a knock upside the head for that one, but she isn’t, so he can make all the stupid puns he wants. Just to be safe, though, he gives himself a smack on the arm and mentally scolds himself in a high-pitched voice resembling his absent comrade’s.

 

He’s just gotten done scolding himself for recklessly endangering himself  _ yet again  _ when the sound of an explosion snaps him out of his shame session with himself. He whips around, raising his trusty wrench and scanning his surroundings for any signs of life…

 

Another explosion makes him jump, causing him to nearly drop his wrench on his foot. His grip tightens as his heart races, the silence becoming deafening. “Where are you…” he mutters, narrowing his eyes. He inches forwards, listening closely for any indication of his new enemy. The sound of a can skidding across the floor alerts Jack to the presence of something behind him. Jack whirls around, raising his Plasmid hand in alarm as he tries to balance himself from the sudden movement.

 

Nothing there. Jack frowns, brow furrowed as he cautiously lowers both of his hands.  _ That’s odd. I’m  _ **_sure_ ** _ I heard something-- _

 

_ BANG. _

 

Jack has just enough time to think,  **_Fuck_ ** , before the bullet hits the back of his skull and he falls to the ground, dead.


	14. A Minute to Think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You just can't win with the formatting on this site. The spacing is either too far apart or so close you have to squint to read the words. I can't seem to fix it....

“ _ I couldn’t agree more, Tenenbaum. Don’t worry, I’ll take him down, and you and the girls will be free to do whatever you want. Thanks for the help, I appreciate it. _ ”

 

Tenenbaum smiles sadly.  _ At least someone has their priorities in order,  _ she thinks as she looks out her office window at Elizabeth, who is still silently watching the little ones argue over who gets which doll. She sighs.  _ Maybe I should talk to her again,  _ she thinks, but quickly dismisses the thought. No. Elizabeth needs to figure this out on her own. If she asks for Tenenbaum’s help, though, the German scientist is more than happy to give it. “It is no trouble, Herr Jack--” she says, turning around, and then she nearly drops the radio, letting out a small yelp at who she sees.

 

For a moment, everything is still, the three of them looking at each other in a mix of emotions. Only when Jack makes a small noise on the other end of the radio does Tenenbaum remember that she was in the middle of something before  _ they  _ interrupted. “ _ Entschuldigen Sie _ , Herr Jack. I’m fine...eh...one of the girls just startled me. Do--do you need anything else?”

 

A pause. “ _ No, that’s it. Thanks again. _ ”

 

“ _ Ja. Bleib sicher, mein Kind. _ ” She releases the button, signaling the end of their conversation. She then gives the familiar intruders her full attention, drawing herself up to her full height and reaching behind her for a weapon of some kind, should they try anything... _ funny _ .

 

“You,” she manages, still not believing who is standing in front of her now.  _ How did they get in here?  _ she wonders, frowning as she glances at the door.  _ Still locked _ , she notes, her frown deepening.

 

“Us,” the woman agrees, as stoic and patient as ever (though she does look  _ slightly  _ ruffled, as does her companion). The man, however, looks unsettled, giving his partner a look of unease. “I suppose you know why we’ve come?”

 

“I’m afraid not,” Tenenbaum answers honestly, still searching for a weapon. “I did what you asked, did I not? You have what you want. Now, please--” Tenenbaum finally grabs ahold of something and grips it tightly. “--go. You do not need me anymore.”

 

“On the contrary,” the woman says with a pained smile. She looks at the man, obviously expecting him to continue. The man, however, looks past his partner to look at the small crowd of little girls huddled around each other just outside of Tenenbaum’s office, whispering and giggling amongst themselves. He seems to do a double-take when his roaming eyes land on one girl in particular--a blonde girl, about five. Sally, if the scientist remembers her name correctly. Elizabeth is quite fond of her, if the small smile the woman is currently giving the young child is any indication.

 

“Your charges are quite...adorable, aren't they?” the man comments nonchalantly.

 

Tenenbaum shifts, ready to bring out her unknown weapon if needs be. “Do not hurt my little ones. They have done nothing wrong--”

 

“Rest assured, Madame Tenenbaum, we have no interest in your children. Our interest lies with the boy and the girl. You did indeed do what we asked, and for that we are grateful. But,” the woman pauses, looking towards her male companion, who is still staring at Sally with a strange look on his face. “We require one more thing from you.”

 

“The truth,” the man clarifies, finally tearing his gaze away from the playing youngsters. “About the girl. You must divulge it.”

 

“I--what? What truth?” A confused look crosses Tenenbaum’s face before realization dawns upon her. “...Do you mean…”

 

The lady nods before Tenenbaum can continue. “Yes. If she is to reveal to the boy the truth, then she must know all of it. Otherwise, their... _ relationship _ ...can never be repaired, and the fate of this universe becomes uncertain once again.”

 

“But why? What is so important about them working together that the fate of the universe is at stake if they are not?”

 

“I’m afraid we can’t tell you that.” The man looks apologetic, though his companion does not.

“Why not?”

 

“Because--”

 

“ _ Reasons _ .”

 

Tenenbaum sighs, shaking her head at the two of them. “You two love your secrets, don’t you.”

 

“As a fellow scientist, I’m sure you can understand.”

 

Tenenbaum gives the mysterious woman a hard look. “I do. But I would gladly reveal all of my secrets if they would save an innocent’s life. Would you?”

 

The woman only smiles, though the smile is clearly forced. “Tell the girl the truth, or we will have to intervene. And believe me, you do  _ not  _ want that. Good day.”

 

And just like that, they’re gone.

 

Tenenbaum blinks, confused as she looks around the room for any sign of their presence--past or present. She finds nothing, and sighs, shaking her head. She would be sure she had imagined the entire thing were it not for the fact that this has happened before.

 

She looks out her office window at the girls--no longer huddled up and whisper-giggling, but now drawing on the floor with chalk. She smiles at the sight, but frowns when she sees Elizabeth grab a piece of chalk and join them. She bites her lip as she watches Elizabeth start drawing what looks like the Arc de Triomphe, a strange feeling festering in the pit of her stomach.

 

_ They are right _ , Tenenbaum realizes as she continues observing the scene.  _ Jack is incapacitated at the moment. He needs help, but I am of no use to him--I must stay here and protect the little ones. He needs Elizabeth. But he will not trust her again so easily...but if they are right. If they are right, and Elizabeth does plan on telling Jack the truth, then she must know everything. I must tell her. _ She sighs, looking away from the scene as Elizabeth smiles at another girl who is attempting to copy her artwork.  _ But now is not the right time. Later, certainly. But...not now. _

 

Not now.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

It’s cold.

 

That’s the first thing he notices.

 

The second is that he’s not dead.

 

Jack groans as he open his eyes--and immediately regrets doing so as he shuts his eyes to avoid the too-bright lights. He opens them again after a few moments, though, and sighs.

 

_ Well, I’m not dead _ , he notes again as he takes in the familiar glass doors and the bluish greenish glow of the Vita-Chamber he’s currently seated in. Well, more like haphazardly slumped against the wall in, but still.  _ That’s good, I suppose. _

 

_ Wait. I’m not dead. _

 

His eyes widen at the thought, and his hand flies to the back of his head where the Splicer’s bullet had hit.

 

Nothing.

 

He grins, still not quite believing what is happening as he rubs his fingers over that particular area. “I guess Fontaine was too wrapped up in himself to think about the whole, ‘me dying but somehow ending up in a Vita-Chamber so I can be resurrected’ thing. Thank God.”

 

He makes to get up, leaning on his leg for support as he tries to grab ahold of the glass doors and use them to pull himself up. After several minutes, he succeeds, managing to stand up on both legs--but quickly realizing that despite his resurrection, his condition is probably still the same. He quickly proves himself right as he nearly topples to the ground, but he catches himself just in time; instead, he bangs his head against the side of the giant glass tube. He groans at the impact, rubbing his head as he leans against the wall.

 

_ Well, shit. Alright, so I’m still incapacitated. That’s...not good. But why haven’t the effects worn off yet?  _ He rubs his hand over his chest absentmindedly, frowning as he remembers the pain from earlier when he had first been hit with Code Yellow’s effects.  _ Well, when he first used the phrase, it took a while to spread, but even after it reached my chest, it wore off pretty quick, leaving only my lower torso paralyzed. That should be the case with the rest of it, right? So why is that not the case? _

 

His frown deepens as a sudden, unbidden thought enters his mind:  _ I’ll bet Elizabeth would know what to do. _

 

_ Okay. Stop that. I don’t need her here, and I certainly don’t  _ **_want_ ** _ her here. Now shut up, brain, and start thinking of a way out of this mess,  _ **_now_ ** _. _

 

He takes a look around, noting that he still seems to be in Olympus Heights--though, not in an area he recognizes…

 

Or so he thinks.

 

It’s not until he notices a certain charred corpse lying in a puddle not five feet away from him that he realizes that he’s in the exact same place as before--only, there’s a new body lying not too far away from where Jack Ryan had met his end for the third time. He frowns, wondering whether it was simply another Splicer or something far more sinister that had caused its demise. He doesn’t care enough to ponder the question further, however; instead, he looks for the place where his body would have been had someone (Tenenbaum, he guesses) not dragged it into the Vita-Chamber. He finds it rather quickly, and hell, looking at the spot now, he can even see the blood puddle. He cringes as his eyes follow the bloody trail leading from the puddle to the Vita-Chamber doors.

 

_ That does not look like it was fun _ , he thinks, turning away from the gruesome sight.  _ I wonder how Tenenbaum managed to drag me over here? She doesn't look like she has that much strength. But then again _ …

 

His mind wanders to a certain someone with dark hair and a faux accent, and he frowns, remembering that he needs to get going before Code Yellow--or, rather,  _ Fontaine _ , as he's the mastermind pulling the strings--strikes again. Unhelpfully, that’s the moment his brain decides to supply him with another image of another someone with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes, and his frown turns into a look of exasperation as he tries to think about anything else.

 

... _ looks can be deceiving _ .

 

He sighs, making to get out of the Vita-Chamber. He involuntarily braces himself for the impact of falling on his face once the doors open.

 

_ Three...two...one… _

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

If there’s an award for massively fucking up the one good thing you have left in your life in less than five seconds, then Elizabeth is sure that she’s won it. She sighs, looking around the small sanctuary for the fifth time in two minutes for any sign of--well, she’s not sure. She hopes that she can find something to do, though--anything to keep her mind off of her wallow in self-pity and overwhelming guilt.

 

Sally, Amanda, and Lindsey are still drawing with chalk over by the large window looking into Tenenbaum’s office--the window now has a curtain of some sort, blocking most of the inside from view. From what Elizabeth can see, Tenenbaum is pacing back and forth while an ex-Little Sister follows her, mimicking her motions. Elizabeth smiles a little at the sight, watching as the little girl raises her arms and flails them about wildly, speaking loud gibberish in an attempt to copy the scientist’s native language.

 

Tessa, Margaret, and Adelaide are over by the Little Sister Vent, chatting away about--surprisingly--the surface. Apparently, Adelaide has heard Mama Tenenbaum talking about the place, and thinks it sounds marvelous. She seems to be trying to convince the others that it’s not as bad as the people of Rapture have made it sound, and they seem to be buying it. Adelaide has a book open on her lap as she sits on the vent, and answers the other girls’ questions with a determined spark in her eyes that Elizabeth has seen before--but she quickly distracts herself before she can think about  _ where. _

 

Masha, Leta, and Emma are all in the corner opposite of Elizabeth, playing with their dolls. Various noises have come from that corner in the past hour; exaggerated explosions, quiet screaming, and a few words that Elizabeth is sure they probably heard from her, which only adds to her guilt, but she ignores that bit. From what she’s heard, it sounds like “Rhys” and “Fiona” are trying to find a treasure of some sort, but are being chased by numerous bad guys. She smiles as she watches them play, remembering the countless scenarios she had put her own dolls in when she had been younger and wishing that she could go back to that; to a time when things were simpler and the only thing on Elizabeth’s mind was Paris and freedom.

 

But she’ll never be free. She’s never been free.

 

She sighs, turning away from the girls and burying her face in her knees again. She doesn’t want to think right now--she hasn’t been thinking for the past hour, she reminds herself, but quickly brushes the thought aside as she takes a deep breath. After a few more minutes of quiet contemplation, she finally lets her thoughts take over, preparing for the worst.

 

“ _ I’m  _ **_not_ ** _ Comstock. I’m  _ **_not._ ** _ I’m...I’m nothing like him. I’m  _ **_nothing_ ** _ like him! _ ”

 

_ Liar. _

 

She knows she had lied, had only said those words to convince herself. All of the lies, the secrets--everything she is now is everything she had hated in Comstock.

 

She’s become him. The monster that tore apart the DeWitt family, that murdered the Luteces, that oppressed the colored people of Columbia--Elizabeth is him. The man who had had her locked up, groomed to become just like him...well, he had succeeded, hadn’t he? She thought she had defied him. She thought that she--they--had defeated him. But even after she had killed the last trace of him--perhaps even  _ because _ of it--she had become the liar and murderer he had wanted her to be. The only difference was that she had been doing it to help herself, and not Comstock...but even Comstock had been doing it for himself, hadn’t he? That burning fire she feels right now, deep inside her chest, isn’t for Comstock--it’s for herself. She’s  _ exactly  _ like him. Everything she has done up to this point--the killing, the lies--it’s all him. Everything she has done to protect herself and maintain a fake persona, keep up the illusion that she’s someone she’s not, is exactly what she had hated in Comstock. The man who had done this to her--to Booker and Anna DeWitt and the Luteces--is the person she’s become, and she hates it.

 

She hates it, almost as much as she hates him. She hates that she has become everything she hated. She can barely remember the time when she couldn’t stand the thought of murder, of falsehoods; before she had been thrusted into a world full of so much of it. Before...

 

Before Booker DeWitt.

 

She remembers when she had first seen him kill. She had been terrified, angry, disgusted--she had been so naive then, to think that it wouldn’t end in blood. She remembers later, when she had committed her first murder--the first of dozens to come. She had been horrified at what she’d done--she remembers thinking that she was a monster...just like Booker. But he had been there; not to seek revenge, not to save his own life, but to  _ comfort her _ . He had told her everything would be fine. He had told her they were going to  _ Paris,  _ and they were leaving Columbia behind, for good; though, he hadn’t said it in words. It was more of an unspoken reassurance, one that Elizabeth had foolishly taken great comfort in. The conversation plays out in her head like an old record--one she’s heard many, many times before:

 

“ _ How do you do it? _ ”

 

“ _ How do I do what? _ ”

 

“ _ Forget. How do you wash away the things that you’ve done? _ ”

 

“ _ You don’t. You just learn to live with it. _ ”

 

God, she still remembers the sound of his voice. Elizabeth is about to break completely, and this time, there will be no going back.

 

She can’t do this.

 

She can’t do this.

 

_ She can’t do this. _

 

But she has to. She  _ knows  _ she has to, and yet--

 

_ What am I supposed to do? _

 

She can’t go on. Her spirit is broken. She’s lost hope; in herself, in the world--

 

_ What would  _ **_Booker_ ** _ do? _

 

The question catches her off guard; but it also makes her stop and think for a moment. What  _ would  _ Booker do in this situation?

 

Her father had screwed up, big time. He had drunk and gambled until there was nothing left, and when he was offered an out he took it--he sold his only child to complete strangers without a second thought. He sentenced her to a life full of people who wouldn’t care--who wouldn’t care about  _ her,  _ only the power she possessed.

 

_ I guess screwing up runs in the family,  _ she thinks bitterly.

 

At the thought, she stops, her heart beginning to race.

 

_ It’s happening all over again, isn’t it? _

 

A mistake.

 

A guilty conscience.

 

A supposedly heroic sacrifice.

 

_ It’s happening all over again. _

 

_ I guess I really am my father’s daughter. _

 

But Booker had never given up.

 

As soon as he was offered a chance at redemption, he took it, and he never stopped until he had atoned for his sins. He had never given up on her. He had never given up on trying to make things right, even though it was impossible to undo what had happened. Even though he could never undo what he had put her through. 

 

And in the end, he had done just that, hadn’t he? He had given his life to erase the mistakes he made, and every universe had felt the ripples of his actions.

 

Despite the mistakes, despite the murders and the lies, Elizabeth had forgiven him. He had been there when nobody else was. He had protected her when nobody else would. And at the end of it all, he had been real, when nothing else was. 

 

That was the kind of man Booker DeWitt had been. The kind of man her  _ father _ had been.

 

So who is she?

 

Elizabeth looks down at the shortwave radio still attached to her hip, biting her lip nervously as she unclips it from her side. She brings it to her face, contemplating whether or not she should--or whether she can--do this.

 

_ Well,  _ she thinks, looking around to make sure she’s mostly alone before pressing the button,  _ Only one way to find out. _


	15. Think Happy (Or Not So Happy) Thoughts

_ Point Prometheus. That’s where I need to go... _

 

Jack walks towards the sign, intent on rounding the corner that it points to, when a sudden noise makes him stop. He stays silent for a few seconds more, praying that he heard wrong--but no, he still hears the security camera carefully sweeping the area for any sign of trouble.

 

He sighs. “Well, I guess I'm not going that way, then,” he mutters quietly. Fontaine had reprogrammed the security cameras and turrets to start shooting on sight, without the delay that usually happens. He'd found that out the hard way about half an hour ago when he'd come across a turret and had mistakenly thought he had time to equip his Electro Bolt plasmid before it opened fire. Needless to say...he hadn't.

 

But if he prepares beforehand…

 

Jack inspects his shotgun, making sure it’s loaded and ready to go before he cautiously pokes his head around the corner, gaining a visual on the camera before he steps out and fires his shotgun once, twice into the piece of machinery.

 

After that, it’s a bit of a blur.

 

He had heard the security camera before he’d rounded the corner. He had heard the mutterings of the deranged splicer lurking nearby, dragging his tommy gun across the floor and occasionally shouting about someone named “Rachel.” What he hadn’t heard, but in retrospect  _ really should have,  _ was the heavy footsteps that only a Big Daddy could make, getting louder and louder with each passing second. At the sound of Jack’s shotgun, the splicer turns, sees Jack, and screams, “ _ WE WERE ON A BREAK!!! _ ”, raising his tommy gun and opening fire. Jack barely has time to duck behind the corner again before the bullets come flying at him, ricocheting off the wall and bouncing willy-nilly all over the place.

 

Jack takes a moment to breathe--he needs a plan. He remembers seeing an oil slick directly underneath the security camera--no doubt the splicer is near it, searching for Jack. While he can’t do much damage to the Big Daddy with that plasmid, he can definitely take out the splicer no problem--and then he can worry about “Mr. Bubbles.” He looks down at his hands as he equips the Incinerate! plasmid, creating a fire at his fingertips. The fire is dimmer than it should be, however--it’s cooler than normal, and the flames are smaller, barely there at all. Jack sighs as he realizes what this means--he’s almost out of EVE. He reaches for another hypo at his makeshift utility belt, but no such luck--he must have used his last one in Hephaestus, sometime before Ryan. He cringes at the memory that accompanies that name, but quickly shakes himself out of it, choosing to focus instead on the here and now.

 

Right. Almost out of EVE, but not completely--probably enough for one last shot. He pokes his head around the corner, preparing his shot--

 

The splicer spots him first. He points at Jack, yelling something unintelligible (though, even if it had been, Jack doubts it would have made much sense anyways) before firing at the wall once more. Jack reels back, just a bit--but he doesn’t disappear completely from view. He steadies his hand, following the splicer’s movements...just a little bit to the left...there! He prepares to snap his fingers, setting the deranged lunatic alight--but then he hears a guttural groan, big, lumbering footsteps speeding up as if running--and he realizes what must have happened as he peers around the corner to confirm his suspicions.

 

The Big Daddy is angry, alright--but thankfully, its anger is directed towards the splicer who is currently yelling in its face while trying to take it down with nothing but a tommy gun. Jack watches as the Big Daddy turns so that its back is to him, and yep, just as he had suspected: there’s a hole in its oxygen tank where the ricochet bullet must have hit it. Jack doesn’t wait to see what the metal monster is going to do to his attacker; instead he uses the distraction as an excuse to look for a vending machine or perhaps another dead body--anywhere he could possibly find more EVE. No such luck, however; though, there might be something back where the Vita-Chamber is…

 

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of something heavy slamming into the wall right behind to him, and Jack jumps, immediately drawing his pistol and clicking the safety off as he points it to the source of the noise. His heart races as he sees the Big Daddy so close to him--he’s suddenly very glad he’d moved away from his hiding place a few minutes ago.

 

The Big Daddy is slamming the splicer into the wall--repeatedly. Jack watches in horrific fascination as the splicer’s head quickly becomes nothing more than a red stain on the wall,  his headless corpse dropped by the creature once the job is finished. The metal brute then turns to Jack, its eyes red with anger...Jack holds his breath, his heart racing faster and faster…

 

...And then it moans, raising its drill threateningly. Jack backs away, not wanting a fight (and certainly not wanting to end up like the splicer)…and then it turns its back to Jack and walks away.

 

Jack sighs in relief as the lumbering brute disappears around a corner--he’s safe (at least, for now). He takes one final look at his surroundings before he moves on, following the Big Daddy as quietly as he can. After all, what’s a Big Daddy without a Little Sister?

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Some of the children--their names escape her at the moment--are playing in front of her office, their conversation muted by the thick glass as they build high towers with their building blocks. The German scientist doesn’t pay much attention, however--she barely even notices. She is too busy  _ thinking. _

 

Brigid Tenenbaum stands at her office desk, her arms folded and a frown on her face as she stares straight through the wall, past her sanctuary and beyond Rapture, to a far-off place where her mind can work in peace. Her moments of contemplation have always been like this; when she and Suchong had worked together, he had always found them rather annoying, and would often interrupt them, much to her dismay. Thinking about Suchong leads her to think about other things, things in her past that she would rather not think about.

 

But this isn’t one of her experiments (although it’s just as important). This is different; this is revealing a secret, a secret that will surely be difficult to explain, and Brigid Tenenbaum has never been good with those. But she has to try. If she doesn’t, those strange people will, and she’s not so sure that that would be a good thing.

 

She shakes herself out of her musings, turning from her desk and searching for the woman in question on the other side of the glass. She finds her huddled up in the corner, clutching her radio and speaking into it--belatedly, she realizes that she must be trying to contact Herr Jack. Briefly, she wonders if she’s talking to him right now--but she quickly dismisses that notion at seeing Fraulein Elizabeth’s worried face.  _ Perhaps he has gotten himself killed again, _ Tenenbaum thinks, sighing mentally.  _ He really must be more careful… _

 

Tenenbaum makes a mental note to send some Little Sisters to check on his progress as she watches the woman sigh and put the radio down, setting her head down on her knees again. Clearly she had not been successful in reaching him; strangely, she feels nothing but pity for her.

 

The German scientist sighs again.  _ Perhaps now is the best time to tell her,  _ she thinks, watching as Elizabeth hugs her knees close to her chest once more, lifting her eyes a little to watch the Little Sisters giggle and play.  _ Those... _ **_scientists_ ** _...are right. If she is to tell Herr Jack the truth, it must be the  _ **_whole_ ** _ truth. But where to start? _

 

Well, she supposes she can start when those odd twins came to her and had asked her to do something so...so  _ ludicrous _ that she wasn’t sure if they were being serious at first. Or perhaps she can start when she asked one of the Little Sisters--Sally, if she recalls correctly--to lead her to this Elizabeth’s corpse at their suggestion...and  _ that  _ isn’t even the strangest part. From what little she’s been told, this woman is very special…

 

Tenenbaum sighs once more, pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head. Now is as good a time as any, she supposes, and besides, it’s not like she has anything else to do.

 

She walks to her office door and opens it, taking a deep breath before saying, “Fraulein Coms--Elizabeth?” she corrects herself, quickly noting the disgusted look on the woman’s face and wishing it gone. “We must talk.”

 

“About what?” Her voice is barely audible, and it sounds like she has been crying--Tenenbaum would not blame her if that is the case. Herr Jack is not someone one would wish to anger. “There’s nothing to talk about, Tenenbaum. Jack was right, I…” she falters, looking away and biting her lip. She doesn't continue.

 

Tenenbaum purses her lips, tempted to look away from the sorry sight--but she doesn't. Instead, she says, “Herr Jack does not know the whole story. And neither do you, Fraulein Elizabeth.”

 

Elizabeth looks at her then, furrowing her brow in confusion. “What do you mean?” At seeing the nervous look on Tenenbaum’s face, however, her expression hardens into something colder, something that makes even the geneticist’s blood run cold. “Tenenbaum...what do you know?” she asks, her voice now dripping with suspicion as she looks the older woman up and down.

 

“The truth,” she responds cryptically, unsure if she should continue--after all, Elizabeth is in a bad place right now, and Tenenbaum isn't sure how she'll take the truth. Perhaps as well as Jack did--though, if that should be the case, Tenenbaum has a Luger pistol that will work quite nicely in calming her down should she get violent. But upon seeing the unamused look on Elizabeth's face, she sighs, knowing what she must do. She holds the door to her office open so that the (presumably; Tenenbaum has no idea how old she really is) younger woman may come in. “Come, into my office. As I said, there is much we must discuss…”

 

Elizabeth eyes the doctor warily, presumably wondering if Tenenbaum plans to murder her in cold blood before apparently dismissing that notion and moving to get up from the floor. “Like what?”

 

“Like…” Tenenbaum purses her lips, unsure of how to proceed. She decides to improvise, hoping for the best. “What do you know of your resurrection, Elizabeth? Do you know who was responsible?”

 

Elizabeth frowns at that, her eyebrows scrunching together as she thinks. “Well, I imagine it was the Luteces who brought me back to life. I don’t know why. Maybe they wanted me to...to redeem myself? But I already did that, didn’t I? What else could I have done that would require redemption?”After the first sentence, she speaks in a hushed tone, as if talking to herself rather than Tenenbaum. The latter decides not to comment, instead gesturing to inside her office once more.

 

“Come,” she says again, this time more urgently. “I have much to tell you. My secrets...they can no longer remain as such, I’m afraid. It is time to tell you what I know.”

 

“About?” Elizabeth raises an eyebrow, curious as she passes Tenenbaum and claims the only chair in the office for herself.

 

“You. Fraulein Elizabeth... _ I  _ am the one who brought you back from the dead.”


	16. A Secret Revealed

**Rapture, 1959**

 

_ A dash of this...a pinch of that...and...finished. That should do the trick, _ Tenenbaum thinks as she puts the finishing touches on her latest creation. If she’s done this right, then this Plasmid will reverse the effects of ADAM on the Little Sisters’ bodies, disintegrating the sea slug inside of them and turning them human once more. Tenenbaum sighs and sits back, dragging a hand over her face wearily as she closes her eyes. She only gets a few moments of peace before the illusion is shattered by two voices, one male and one female, both tinted with English accents.

 

“ _ An impressive concoction, Dr. Tenenbaum. _ ”

 

“ _ Indeed. It’s a shame you have need of it. _ ”

 

“ _ As the saying goes… ‘too little, too late.’ _ ”

 

Tenenbaum jumps in her seat, twisting around to stare wide-eyed at the strange intruders. She chances a quick glance at the door and notices it’s still locked; something unpleasant twists in her gut at the realization that there's no other way they could have gotten in, and yet...here they are. She looks at them again, brow furrowed. “Who are you?” she asks, rising from her seat and reaching behind her for the Luger pistol she always keeps close by. She grasps the handle and slowly but quietly drags the pistol across the desk until it’s behind her back. “What do you want?”

 

The other woman doesn’t seem fazed by her aggressive behavior, merely glancing at the pistol behind the scientist’s back and giving the faintest hint of an amused smile before answering the question. “We are...where we’re needed.”

 

“And needed where we are,” the man adds, glancing at his...sister? Tenenbaum would be surprised if they were not related--they look almost exactly the same; same hair, same amount of freckles, same clothes, same _height._ Tenenbaum finds their similarities more than a bit unnerving, but decides not to comment on it.

 

“As for what we want, we wish only to see a girl who once moved heaven and earth to redeem herself get another chance to do so.” She then turns to her brother, frowning slightly. “I can’t believe you talked me into this,” she murmurs in a low tone to him.

 

Her brother merely shrugs.

 

Tenenbaum frowns at the odd couple, clicking the safety off on the pistol behind her back. “You did not answer my question.” she says impatiently, sighing.

 

“Who we are is none of your concern,” the man says curtly. “What we want is for you to help us give the aforementioned woman another chance.”

 

The geneticist laughs mirthlessly. “And why should I help you?” she asks, gripping the handle on the gun harder. “Do I even know this woman?”

 

“No. But that shouldn’t deter you. After all, you barely know these children,” the woman says, gesturing to the large glass window providing a view of the Little Sisters outside of her office, “and yet you’re helping them. Why is this woman any different?”

 

A retort is on the tip of Tenenbaum’s tongue, but she bites it back, swallowing thickly. Then she sighs, finally loosening her death-like grip on her pistol--though she has no reason to, she trusts that they are not here to harm her. That does not stop her from asking, however. “How do I know that what you are saying is true? For all I know, you could be leading me into a trap. What reason do I have to trust you?”

 

“You misunderstand, Dr. Tenenbaum--”

 

“ _ Trust  _ has nothing to do with it.”

 

“We are simply asking for a favor.”

 

Tenenbaum won’t admit it, but hearing them talk in perfect unison gives her chills. She shakes it off, however, and asks her next question. “What kind of favor?”

 

The woman smirks while the man pulls something seemingly out of thin air. Upon closer inspection, it appears to be a tube with some sort of hair sample inside. Tenenbaum frowns as she’s handed the tube, looking it over curiously.

 

“This is a sample of the woman’s hair,” he tells her, before she can ask. “Her name is Elizabeth. I believe she helped one of your Little Sisters escape a particularly nasty fate at the hands of Atlas and his splicers--and died in the process.”

 

At the mention of Atlas, Tenenbaum looks up sharply. “What do you know of Atlas?” she asks suspiciously, before the meaning of his words sink in. “Wait...she  _ saved _ …?”

 

“Yes. I believe the girl’s name was Sally. I doubt she remembers much of the ordeal, but if you would like to ask her about it, be my guest.” There is a tone to the woman’s voice that makes it sound as though she’s slightly intrigued by the notion.

 

Tenenbaum nods, looking back at the hair sample with an odd feeling twisting in her stomach. Then something else occurs to her, something that would make helping her quite difficult…

 

“You say she died? But how am I supposed to help her if she is no longer alive?” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, however, it clicks. “ _Sie scherzen_ _._ You want me to _resurrect_ her? But how am I supposed to do that?”

 

The woman nods once, frowning slightly. “The Vita-Chambers, of course. I believe you know how to feed a genetic sample to the machines? In about one year, you’ll need to ask Sally to lead you to the woman’s corpse--I believe she still knows the way. If not, there are others…. Once you've retrieved it, then you'll be able to revive Elizabeth. Make sure to leave her in one of the Vita-Chambers in Fontaine's Department Store--if she finds the boy sooner than expected, that could be disastrous.” She murmurs that last part, leaning towards her brother as she does so. Tenenbaum frowns, wondering who “the boy” is, but she doesn't ask, somehow knowing that she wouldn't get a straight answer--not from these two, anyways.

 

“A  _ year? Scheisse,  _ why didn't you come to me then, then?” she asks instead, throwing her hands up indignantly.

 

“We’ll be busy then,” the man answers vaguely, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off his shoulder.

 

Tenenbaum scoffs, folding her arms across her chest before her face softens at the thought of the woman--Elizabeth--giving her life to help one of her Little Ones--Sally. At the thought of her, she sighs. She knows who Sally is. She had been recently rescued, in fact--she was one of the younger ones, not much older than five or six.

 

Tenenbaum suddenly remembers something else about Sally--something that makes sense of these strangers’ ramblings. Sally sometimes speaks of a woman who had helped her some time ago, back before Tenenbaum had found her, who had rescued her from “the bad men”--splicers, no doubt, who apparently had been working for Atlas. If this Elizabeth is the same woman that had helped Sally to safety, then Tenenbaum owes her a debt...

 

_ These people...I do not know what they have in store for this woman, but  _ **_if_ ** _ what they say is true…  _ “Very well. I will help you.”

 

The woman smiles; again, it looks forced. “Excellent. I was afraid we would have to do it ourselves. Now, then--” the woman turns to her brother, her smile becoming a little less forced-- “shall we be off?”

 

“I believe we shall,” her brother responds.

 

The lamp on the desk behind Tenenbaum flickers for a few moments before going out completely. She turns around, looking at it curiously before turning back to her strange guests, only to find that they've mysteriously disappeared. She glances at the door like she had when she first noticed them--it's still locked.

 

“ _ Was zum Teufel? _ ” she mutters, turning back to her work with caution as she tightens her grip on her Luger once more.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

**Rapture, 1960**

 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

 

The little girl beams up at him, smile wide and eyes shining--they're blue, he notices absentmindedly, as he wipes the sweat from his brow--no longer the sickly yellow of the Little Sisters. He takes a few deep breaths, leaning on his knees as he smiles at the girl, who (thankfully) doesn't notice his weariness, instead looking around her in astonishment as though she’s seeing all of her surroundings for the first time--and who knows? Maybe she is.

 

“You're welcome, miss,” he says, his tone far cheerier than his mood. “Now, do you see that vent over there?” He points to a Little Sister vent not too far off from where they're both standing now, making sure she sees it before he puts his hand down. “Mama Tenenbaum’s waiting for you on the other side. Do you think you could find your way to her by yourself?”

 

Though she looks uncertain, the girl nods fervently, her loose ponytail bouncing up and down with the movement. She smiles as Jack lets out a relieved sigh.

 

“Good,” Jack says, still smiling for the girl's sake. In truth, the last thing he feels like doing right now is smiling--but there’s no need to key the girl into his troubles.

 

“Are you going to come with me?” the girl asks, her eyes conveying her worry for her savior---blue, he notices again, the same shade as Elizabeth’s. His stomach churns at the thought of her, but he quickly brushes it aside. He shakes his head, and the girl’s face falls.

 

“I’ve got to go fight the bad man,” he explains, voice low as he looks around--he’s sure he’d heard something just now. “You can’t come with me, but I promise as soon as I’m done I’ll come back for you and the other girls. And Mama Tenenbaum,” he adds quickly, seeing the girl about to protest. “I’ll come back for all of you, and we’ll all go to Lilly Poppy together.”

 

At hearing this, the girl’s demeanor brightens, a smile replacing the worried frown. “Okay, mister!” she says, and gives him a quick hug before turning and running off towards the vent.

 

As he watches the little girl’s feet disappear into the ventilation system, he allows his faux smile to fall, replacing it with a look of worry. He hopes that the girl will be okay, now that she’s no longer practically immortal--not to mention now she has no iron golem to protect her, so she’s doubly vulnerable. He sighs.

 

_ Well, she’s safe as long as she’s in the vents. Hopefully she finds her way to Tenenbaum… _

 

Jack’s not sure she will, though--he should’ve gone with her, he realizes, with her and the one he had rescued earlier. Though Tenenbaum would surely have reprimanded him for wasting time, time that Jack could have been using to track down Fontaine, Jack would feel much better knowing that the girls were alive and safe.

 

He sighs.  _ Well, it’s too late now, _ he thinks drearily. He moves to stand.  _ The only thing I can do now is make sure Fontaine gets what he deserves. _

 

He turns away from the vent, taking in his surroundings. He’s not anywhere he recognizes, which to him is a sign that he’s headed the right way. The area is fairly open--a withered tree stands in the center, with a decayed corpse hanging from it--either suicide or Splicers, Jack guesses. He can hear the whirr of a security camera sweeping the area, although he can’t see it from where he is. Distantly, he thinks he can also her the obnoxious cackling of a Circus of Values vending machine, and makes a note of where it might be located, in case he needs a pick-me-up or some ammunition.

 

He doesn’t see much else besides the several staircases with several missing steps that lead to several balconies several feet above the ground. Sighing, he heads towards the first one he sees that doesn’t have more than seven missing steps and begins to climb.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“That’s not possible.”

 

“Fraulein Elizabeth--”

 

“That’s  _ not possible. _ I read the notes in Suchong’s lab. The Vita-Chambers are only tuned to Ryan’s genetic frequencies; only he and Jack can use them. Now, maybe you somehow changed them to accept me as well, but you would have needed a genetic sample, wouldn’t you? How did you get that? While we’re on the subject, how do you even know who I am? I doubt Suchong trusted you enough to share his secrets with you.”

 

Tenenbaum sighs, putting a hand over her eyes in exasperation. When she had decided to tell the young woman the truth, she had of course expected questions—but she had not expected so many, and the woman is giving her almost no time to answer one before moving on to another. “I am  _ trying  _ to explain, Fraulein, but you must give me time to answer your many questions!” She sighs again as Elizabeth finally falls silent, pursing her lips in an unapproving fashion. “Where to start…?”

 

“How about the beginning? How did you find out about me? Was it Suchong? Ryan?”

 

Tenenbaum scoffs, snaking her head lightly. “Please. As if they would share their secrets with me—as you said. No. It was…” Here, she pauses. How is she supposed to explain this part to her? She decides to take her chances—the whole truth, they had said, nothing more and nothing less. “I was in my office one day, working on—on a project. I hear these--this couple behind me, talking nonsense. I do not know how they even got in there, truthfully,” she admits, and she sees Elizabeth’s eyes widen just a fraction. “They told me about you, and what you did for one of my Little Ones--thank you, by the way. I doubt she would have lived long had you not stepped in and saved her life. Fontaine and his filthy Splicers care nothing for--”

 

The young woman scoffs, causing Tenenbaum to pause mid-sentence and raise an eyebrow in her direction. “Yeah? And what exactly did they tell you? That I was some sort of savior? That I saved Sally’s life out of--of what, kindness? Because I wanted to? Because it was right?” It’s Elizabeth’s turn to scoff. “I didn’t. I’m no savior--Sally was only in that mess in the first place because of me. All she was to me was a pawn--and I used her and left her to die when I was done. The only reason I came back here was because the guilt was eating me alive. I would have left her to rot if it hadn’t.”

 

This...this is new information. Tenenbaum had suspected that something like that might have been the case--that she accidentally saved Sally or she purposefully did with her own intentions. But the fact that she had been planning to  _ let an innocent child die,  _ well--well, this the scientist was not expecting. After an endless minute of thinking, she finally says, “Yes. Perhaps this is true. But…” She sighs. “I was like you, once. I did not care who I hurt, as long as I achieved my goals. I did not care for the girls I was experimenting on, or...or eventually, the boy. I did not care what my experiments were used for, how many people died because of my science. I was...a monster,” she admits, a look of great sorrow crossing her face before it hardens. “But I learned from my mistakes. I gained a  _ conscience,  _ mein Kind--a  _ soul. _ I saved the girls I condemned, and in doing so--at least I hope--begun my path to redemption. I still have much to do before I am fully redeemed, but I do not despair--there is still a chance for me. And if there is a chance for  _ me,  _ then why not for you? Fraulein Elizabeth, you only hurt one innocent--I hurt hundreds. If there is no hope for me, then there is no hope for anyone.”

 

Elizabeth is silent for a very long time. Tenenbaum, knowing that she needs time to think and process what’s been said, sits beside her, watching her charges play with blocks and draw with chalk. They sit like that for what seems like hours, but in reality is probably only a handful of endless minutes, when Elizabeth speaks again, in a voice so soft and unlike any voice she’s heard Elizabeth use before that Tenenbaum initially wonders if she is the one speaking at all. “What do I do now?”

Tenenbaum doesn’t answer.

 

“Tenenbaum, what do I do now? How do I find redemption?”

 

Silence.

 

“Tenenbaum.”

 

“...Help him,” she says after a long moment.

 

“What?”

 

“Help him.” She fixes her gaze on the young woman seated beside her. “You are the reason he is here, yes? Help him get out. He cannot do this alone--his body is reacting too negatively to the effects of Code Yellow to function properly, and on his own he is moving too slowly to reach the second dose of the cure in time. But if you help him...if you are there then he stands a chance. You are his only hope, and he is ours. If you do this, you will have gained redemption not only in my eyes, but theirs as well.” She gestures to the children, still oblivious to all of the heartache and emotional drama going on between the two women. “You have a debt that needs paying, Fraulein Elizabeth. Wipe it away.”

 

Upon finishing her “speech,” Tenenbaum watches as Elizabeth’s blank expression is quickly replaced by a steely look and a hardened glint of determination in her eyes that the scientist strongly suspects is a key factor in Jack’s attraction towards her. She nods. “I...okay. Okay,” she breathes, her voice a bit shaky--but nevertheless, she moves to stand, grabbing the radio at her hip and flicking the “ON” switch.

 

“Jack? It’s Elizabeth. We...we need to talk.”


	17. From One Sinner to Another

“I am not going to lie,” Jack says to no one in particular, staring at his hands that are still rapidly switching Plasmids--was that Target Dummy? Jack doesn’t even  _ have  _ Target Dummy, what the hell-- “this is not the most fucked up thing that’s happened to me today. Hell, this doesn’t even crack the top  _ ten.  _ What the fuck.”

 

He shakes his hands--the numbness that’s been steadily spreading throughout his body for the past hour and and half is retreating, and fast. It’s leaving an odd sort of ache in its wake--but hey, Jack’s not complaining. He can move his legs again, at least--and he’s dealt with pain before, he can handle it. After a few more seconds of Security Bullseye switching out with Winter Blast and Winter Blast switching out with Sonic Boom and Sonic Boom switching out with Incinerate!, Jack finally feels the numbness in his hands retreat and leave the same aching pain behind. Sighing, he tries switching to Cyclone Trap, just to make sure--and, yep. His Plasmids are screwed.

 

“Goddamnit,” he groans, letting his hand fall to his side. Well, he can’t use his Plasmids anymore--or at least, not right now. That’s just perfect. Now Jack’s only got his weapons, and those are limited, too-- he’s low on ammunition for some and completely out for others, and he’s broke. The next hour or so of his life is going to be just peachy, he can tell.

 

God, he’s going to die.  _ Again. _

 

He’s not looking forward to it.

 

“Well this is going to be fun,” Jack grumbles. “I guess I’d better let Tenenbaum know where I am so that she knows where to find my dead body.” He unclips the radio from his side and flicks the “ON” switch. “Hey, Tenenbaum, I’m in Fontaine’s apartment right now. I’ve gotten the first dose of the Lot, but something’s messed up my Plasmids and I can’t control them. Do you have any idea what that’s about?”

 

“...Uh.”

 

Jack swears his heart leaps into his throat at the familiar voice, but he doesn’t say anything.

 

“...Jack? I tried to reach you earlier, but--”

 

“My radio was off,” Jack says curtly. He wants this conversation to be over as soon as possible--though some of his anger at Elizabeth has dissolved since the last time they spoke, he’s still pretty pissed and hurt at her betrayal. He doesn’t want to deal with her right now-- _ but if not now, when? _ Well, he doesn’t want to deal with that either, so he doesn’t.

 

“...Oh.”

 

“Where’s Tenenbaum?”

 

“She’s...somewhere else. Listen, Jack, we need to--”

 

“Yeah, yeah, in a minute. I need to talk to Tenenbaum first, it’s important--”

 

“I’m right here, Herr Jack,” a new voice says over the radio, and Jack is more than relieved to hear her voice right now.

 

“Fantastic. Listen, there’s something wrong with my Plasmids, they’re--” Jack begins, but is cut off by none other than Tenenbaum herself.

 

“Yes, I heard you the first time.” She sighs. “It is nothing to worry about. The compound is simply taking hold. The effects of the mental suggestion are now gone, but there will certainly be side effects, such as your Plasmid problem--I do not believe the effects are permanent. If you find the rest of the Lot 192, the problem should be fixed. I think Suchong had some in his laboratory--you could check there for another dosage.”

 

Jack nods before he remembers Tenenbaum can’t see him. “Right. Thanks.”

 

“It is no trouble. By the way, you are at Fontaine’s apartment, yes?”

 

“Uh...yes. Why?”

 

“Good,” Tenenbaum says, ignoring Jack’s question. “Elizabeth is coming to assist you, please stay where you are and wait for her.”

 

“Okay---Wait. What.”

 

“Jack--”

 

The next seven minutes are spent with Elizabeth, Tenenbaum, and Jack all talking over each other--Jack refusing to work alongside Elizabeth again on account of how trustworthy she is--Elizabeth at first pleading with him for another chance and then not two minutes later turning to vehemently denying his heated accusations--and Tenenbaum, practically yelling over the both of them, trying to convince Jack that he can’t do this alone and that he needs Elizabeth’s help--because no,  _ she can’t help him _ \--isn’t she already doing more than enough behind the scenes?--and besides, the Little Ones need supervision in case Fontaine decides to come looking for them. Tenenbaum’s voice is eventually lost in the near screaming match Jack and Elizabeth seem to be dissolving into, and it takes the threat of Tenenbaum severing the connection altogether to get them to shut up long enough for her to make her case. Once she’s done, Jack immediately starts talking again, something which Elizabeth heavily protests to--but Tenenbaum is quick enough this time and shuts down the argument.

 

“Jack, Elizabeth will accompany you and that is final,” the geneticist says sharply, shutting both of them up at once. “You are our only hope of defeating Fontaine, and we  _ cannot  _ lose you. You are in no condition to be traveling by yourself, and Elizabeth has proven herself more than capable of picking up the slack. You two certainly have your differences, and you can bicker all you want once Fontaine is dead. But for now, you must not fight--you must  _ help each other. _ Do you understand?”

 

For the first time since the conversation begun, there is complete silence. Tenenbaum is about to repeat herself when there is a faint, “Yes ma’am,” heard over the line. It’s Jack. She takes a deep breath and nods once, though neither of them can see her--she’s locked in her office, alone, with the curtains drawn. Elizabeth is upstairs by the big door--Tenenbaum has no idea why. Speaking of--

 

“And Elizabeth?”

 

There’s a breath, then a pause. Then: “Yes ma’am.”

 

Tenenbaum sighs in relief.  _ Good.  _ “Good. Now, off you go, Fraulein Elizabeth. You have a long way to go.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

She can’t believe this.

 

She can’t fucking  _ believe this. _

 

She trekked all the way to Fontaine’s apartment, found Jack, together they made a game plan, and now--

 

Now he’s giving her the silent treatment.

 

_ The silent treatment, of all things. _

 

She can’t fucking believe this.

 

Oh, she’s tried getting him to talk--multiple times, in fact. He never acknowledges her or answers. Not even in grunts or facial expressions. God, he's such a  _ dick. _

 

She wants to hate him. She kind of does.

 

But she also knows that she deserves it.

 

_ Well, fiftieth time’s the charm,  _ she thinks pessimistically, tired of the silence that had sprouted since she had last attempted to get him to talk, and punches him in the arm.

 

_ That,  _ of all things, gets a reaction out of him. Not the half-hearted name calling, not the offer to spill her guts to him, not the offer of cash to buy more ammunition because she’s noticed he’s almost out--no, the  _ punch to the arm is what gets to him.  _ Jesus Christ.

 

“Ow!” he cries, rubbing his arm where she had punched him. He turns to glare at her. “What the  _ hell  _ was that for?”

 

Elizabeth shrugs, seemingly nonchalant. Inside, she’s almost as nervous as she was when Jack had found out the truth. “Fun. And also because you deserve it. You dick.”

 

Jack narrows his eyes at her dangerously, and honestly? That look doesn’t scare her as much as it used to. Now, it just makes her even more pissed. “What did  _ I  _ do?  _ You  _ were the one that gave Fontaine the means to control me. If it wasn’t for you--”

 

Oh, Elizabeth should have known. She should have  _ known  _ he was going to pin this whole thing on her.  _ It  _ **_was_ ** _ kind of mostly your fault, though,  _ a tiny voice in her head whispers. She chooses to ignore it in favor of raising her voice at Jack in her own defense. “If it wasn’t for  _ me _ you’d still be God knows where on the surface,  _ brainwashed _ and  _ alone _ and left to  _ rot-- _ ”

 

“ _ So? _ I wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t have a clue. Do you honestly think that what’s going on right now is any better than the alternative? Fuck you. I didn’t ask for this--I didn’t ask for any of this. This is  _ your  _ fault, Elizabeth.”

 

“It is  _ not  _ my fault!” Elizabeth is screaming now--they both are, she realizes, but it’s too late to do anything about it. The tiny voice in her head reminds her that she’d promised Tenenbaum they’d get along, but she pushes that tiny voice out of her mind a second time and instead focuses on shifting her own blame and guilt onto Jack, who--in all honesty--did absolutely nothing wrong. She takes a deep breath at the realization, trying very hard to calm herself before she speaks again. “It’s not my fault.”

 

“Isn’t it, Elizabeth? I may have pulled the trigger, but you’re the one who gave me the gun in the first place. I think that more than qualifies this situation as being mostly, if not entirely,  _ your fault. _ ”

 

“I--” she almost yells, but stops herself before she can continue. “Yeah,” she finally breathes out, after a moment of silence. “Yeah, okay. You know what? Fine. Maybe it is my fault.” She crosses her arms and looks away.

 

Jack snorts. “‘Maybe,’” he mocks, and Elizabeth has never wanted to punch him as much as she does in this moment--but she knows that if she does she’ll break her hand, and they  _ really  _ can’t afford that right now. So, she settles for silent seething and an ice-cold glare directed at him before turning on her heel and storming ahead.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“ _ This...was not part of the plan. _ ”

 

“ _ I’ll admit, even  _ **_I_ ** _ didn’t see  _ **_this_ ** _ coming. _ ”

 

“ _ Well, what did you expect? They’ll have to reconcile eventually--though, a team-up so soon after a fight as big as theirs is bound to end in disaster. I’ll be surprised if they don’t end up murdering each other. _ ”

 

“... _ Do you think we should intervene? _ ”

 

“ _ I think  _ **_we’ve_ ** _ done enough. _ ”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“Hey, that offer to lend me some cash to buy ammo still stand?”

 

“No.”

 

Jack shrugs, smirking. “Worth a shot.”

 

After a few beats of silence, she sighs, coming to a halt. “How much?” she asks, not looking at Jack as she rifles through her satchel and pulls out a wad of bills. “Twenty? Twenty-five?”

 

Jack stares at her blanky before seeming to consider. “Uh..twenty will do, I think. Though it couldn't hurt to have a little extra--” He’s cut off but Elizabeth shoving the bills into his hands and stalking off ahead of him. He huffs, rolling his eyes before following her.

 

They don’t talk much after that--the only conversation between them for the next hour and a half is when a group of Splicers gets the jump on them and they have to work together to defeat them, and a second time when Elizabeth hears a Circus of Values machine in the distance. She points this out to Jack, mentioning that they can finally stock up on supplies if they locate where the noise is coming from.

 

“Hm,” is all he says, and that’s the end of that.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“You know, you’re going to have to talk to me eventually,” Elizabeth points out as he’s selecting the desired items from the vending machine selection screen. “We can’t keep this up forever.”

 

“Yes, we can,” he says immediately. He winces as he realizes what he’s done. “Uh...you know what, screw it. Yes, we can, and yes, we will, unless and until you decide that you’re done playing the double-agent and decide to tell me what the hell is going on. Are you ready to tell me what the hell is going on?”

 

Elizabeth just shoots him a very unamused glare and stays silent. Jack nods, his lips thinning into a tight smile as he turns back to the vending machine.

 

“So you begged for my forgiveness and for me to give you another chance, and yet you’re still not telling me anything.” He shrugs. “Makes sense.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Well, at least they’re talking again. Though it’s somewhat reluctant.

 

She’ll take it.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“ _ Ryan’s flesh and blood. Why’d I go the trouble? Otherwise you’d have been cut in two by the first Security Bot you crossed paths with. But not Ryan...he made it so his security would recognize his genetic structure. With half his genes, you ain’t immune, but you got just enough to throw them metallic mooks off their game. _ ” Fontaine laughs over the radio, making Elizabeth shiver beside him. Jack groans.

 

“Oh, my God.  _ Please _ stop talking.”

 

Fontaine laughs again. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack can see Elizabeth tense up again, ever so slightly--if he ever gets the truth out of her, he’s going to ask her why. Though, to be fair, Fontaine in general makes  _ him  _ uneasy, so maybe it’s the same for her. “Hey, kid. Unlike you, I got  _ time.  _ An’ I’m gonna make sure I don’t waste it.”

 

Somehow, Elizabeth looks even more uneasy than Jack feels, and he decides that that's probably not the best way to get her to open up--although he is still mad at her, he does want to her to tell him things eventually and he doubts she’ll do that if her guard is up. Deciding that he should probably lower it a bit, Jack responds to the latest of Fontain’s taunts with a scoff. “What, by taunting me? Wow, what a great way to spend your time. You’re a true inspiration for us all, Fontaine.”

 

Fontaine is silent for a minute. Jack thinks he’s just about given up when--

 

“ _ Listen here,  _ **_boyo_ ** _ , _ ” and--oh. The faux Irish accent he had been using as Atlas had come back with that last word. Jack shivers, and he sees Elizabeth’s slowly widening smile quickly disappear. “You’ve got about an hour, maybe an hour an’ a half before you bite the dust. So I’d quit yappin’ if I were you, and  _ get on with it. _ ”

 

“Fair enough,” he shrugs--he manages to sound confident and unbothered when really, he’s not, which,  _ yay _ \-- “But if you’re going to keep talking my ear off, could you  _ please  _ lose the Bronx accent? It’s the worst. Your Atlas one was far better--unlike your current one, it was actually  _ tolerable.  _ Pleasant to listen to, even. But  _ this one? _ This one’s a joke. Kind of like you.” He smirks, even though he knows Fontaine can’t see him--he can’t help it. Judging by the surprised chuckle that escapes Elizabeth, she can’t help it either. His heart flutters a bit in his chest as he listens to her giggle, but he quickly pushes the feeling down--he’d really rather not think about that while he’s still mad at her. He does allow himself to feel good about cheering her up, though--he hadn’t liked seeing her so forlorn since they’d started talking again.

 

Fontaine quickly shuts down his train of thought, growling out through the radio, “ _ Alright, listen here, kid—an’ listen closely, ‘cuss I ain’t kiddin’ around. You better shut your mouth now, ‘cause when I get to ya you’ll be ina helluva lot more pain than you woulda been had you’a kept quiet. _ ” He sounds truly aggravated now, which—although it makes Jack shaky, bringing back some very unpleasant memories from what could have only been a few hours ago—it also makes his heart sing with joy. He can’t help but grin, turning to Elizabeth and seeing her smiling as well—probably the most genuine smile he’s ever seen on her face. She’s holding a hand to her mouth, no doubt trying to hide her joy from her partner. He grins wider at the thought; he wants to draw this out, make this last as long as possible. Honestly, Fontaine has wasted so much of his time and made him so angry in the time that he’s known him—the  _ real _ him—that Jack feels he should return the favor. Even if it is just a quick jab at his ego.

 

“Mm, see, there’s your problem. You’re so hung-up on ruling Rapture and destroying everything I’ve ever cared about that you don’t see what’s right in front of you. See, Elizabeth and I, we’re halfway done with the little mindfuck you’re putting me through. Once I get the second dose of that cure, I’ll be all yours, and I can’t  _ wait _ to see the look on your face as I tear you limb from limb.”

 

“ _ Alright, that’s it!! Listen here, you little—! _ ” Fontaine’s screams are cut off suddenly when Jack flicks the switch on the radio, turning it off. Only then does he allow himself to chuckle, and it appears Elizabeth has the same idea, because she removes her hand from her mouth and allows her giggles to be heard.

 

She stops after a moment, however, her smile dimming a bit. “Y’know...maybe you shouldn’t have told him what we were doing.” She sounds disapproving, but there’s a playful note in her tone. “I doubt he’s going to bother us again anytime soon after that, though. We’d better get moving if we want to beat him to the punch.”

 

Jack nods, still smiling. “...Yeah. Yeah, we should—yeah. C’mon.” He resumes walking up the stairs, but pauses as he realizes Elizabeth isn’t following him. “Elizabeth?” he asks, concern beginning to surface when she doesn’t respond. “Elizabeth,” he says again, a bit softer this time.

 

Elizabeth starts, turning from where she’d been presumably staring off into space to look at him. “Hm? Oh! Oh, yeah. Sorry. Coming.”

 

She hurries up the steps after him, avoiding eye contact as she eventually passes him. Jack sighs as he realizes what this means. “Guess we’re back to the silent treatment, then.” And they’d been doing so well for the last thirty minutes. What had set her off, he wonders? Was it something Fontaine said? Or perhaps something Jack himself had said? After a couple minutes of pondering, he decides to ask.

 

“Liz, are you okay?”  He uses the old nickname on purpose, in the hopes of jarring a reaction out of her.

 

She jumps, apparently not expecting Jack to initiate a conversation. Well, who could blame her? It had mostly been him that had refused to speak at first, and now that they’re apparently back to square one, initiating a conversation is probably the last thing she expects him to do. Nevertheless, he persists, noting the gloomy and guilty expression crossing her face.

 

“...I. Yeah. I’m okay. And it’s Eliz—“ she stops herself, an expression that Jack can’t place crossing her face—though if he had to guess he’d say it was  _ determination.  _ She clears her throat, looking in Jack’s direction (but not directly  _ at him _ , something Jack takes to mean  _ not good _ ) as she prepares to continue. “...Anna.”

 

Jack had started walking again once she’d confirmed there was nothing wrong, but at the name “Anna,” he stops. “...What?”

 

“It’s--my name. My name is Anna DeWitt. Not Elizabeth...Comstock.” She spits that last name like it’s poison, but Jack barely notices on account of how faint he’s feeling.

 

“What?” he manages, for a second time. That’s not what he had wanted to say, but it’s the only thing he could.

 

Elizabeth--no, not Elizabeth,  _ Anna _ \--sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Do I really have to spell it out for you? Elizabeth Comstock is a fake name. It’s a cover, a--another lie that I made up to convince people I was someone else. Some--some _ thing  _ else. My real name is Anna DeWitt.”

 

“...Oh.” Again, not what he had wanted to say--and he hates how he said it, like it’s no big deal and she’s just told him his sweater is dirty or something, because it  _ is a big deal, damnit,  _ but he doesn’t know what else to say, because she’s finally admitting it. Admitting that it was all a lie, an elaborate con fabricated for an unknown purpose--and Jack shuts up, silently willing her to continue.

 

She doesn’t, though, and Jack finds himself irritated enough to ask, “Anything else?”

 

“...I wasn’t lying about  _ everything, _ ” she admitted quietly after a moment. “I--I was lying about most of it, yes, but not everything. I really was born in New York. I really can speak French, I’ve really always wanted to go to Paris and see the world.” She stops there, though it looks like she has more to say. After a few moments of not speaking, and Jack deciding that she won’t, he nods.

 

“O--okay. So--So Rapture. Why’d you come to Rapture?”

 

She hadn’t been looking at him before, and she still doesn’t, but she turns her head even further from his gaze at the question, which only serves to make Jack more suspicious. “I got sidetracked.”

 

“By?”

 

“A man. He did something terrible to me, and I couldn’t just let him get away with it, you know? He was--” she stops herself, then apparently changes her mind on what she’s about to say. “He was like my own personal Fontaine. Jack, there was a debt he owed, and I simply made him pay it. That’s all.”

 

Jack nods again after a minute or two. “So you came to Rapture to clear a debt. But then you stayed. Why? You’ve mentioned before that you don’t really agree with Andrew Ryan’s philosophies and ideas. You could have left. Why didn’t you?”

 

Anna scoffs, though clearly she’s nervous, judging by the pinky-squeezing. “When Rapture was first built Andrew Ryan told everyone that they’d been given a choice, a new opportunity to thrive and rise above their lot in life. He told them they could build new lives here, that this--Rapture--was paradise. But he also told them that no one was going anywhere. Once you came to Rapture, you were staying. He didn’t want anyone on the surface to know about this place. Granted, some chose to ignore him, and they escaped, but I’m sure Ryan's goonies on the surface took care of that for him. I decided not to try my luck and resigned to living here.” Technically, she reasons, it’s the truth--though she hadn’t exactly  _ lived  _ down here, she had resigned herself to the fact that she was to spend the rest of her days in this hellhole, alone and forgotten by absolutely everyone--and she suddenly realizes that not really many people had even  _ met  _ her--only Booker and Atlas and a few of the latter’s thugs. Everyone else she’d known--and even then she hadn’t really known them--is dead. There’s no one to mourn her, to miss her, to visit her grave-- _ she hadn’t even been buried, God _ \--no one to carry on her legacy. She stops at the thought, an odd feeling stirring in her stomach akin to nausea. When Jack begins to speak again, she holds up a hand to stop him. 

 

“Let’s keep walking,” she suggests, ignoring the feeling for now. “I’m still going to tell you,” she adds hastily once she sees Jack about to protest. “I just--we might as well kill two birds with one stone, right? Fontaine’s not gonna wait around while I tell my sob story, so we might as well get a move on while I do it. Come on,” and without waiting to see if he’ll follow (a feat that takes some effort), she brushes past him and begins to climb the next set of steps.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“I wasn’t...I mean. I didn’t  _ want  _ to lie to you, you know? I just...I didn’t know who you were, or anything about you, and I’m not the type to tell random people I meet my entire life’s story--hell, I’ve never told  _ anyone  _ my life story. I knew  _ about  _ you, yes, but I didn’t know when I met you that I had previously helped screw up your life--and again, I’m sorry about that, I really am—and I meant to tell you but it was never the right time. There was always a bigger picture, another thing to deal with and even when there were bits of silence I still couldn’t bring myself to tell you, because by that time we’d kind of become friends and I _ knew _ that you’d react he way you did, and I couldn’t risk that. I know it was selfish, Jack, I do. I know I was being selfish, and I should have told you from the start, but I—I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

 

It’s a long time before either of them say anything. Elizabeth supposes he’s merely trying to process what she’s said and wondering if he should forgive her—but Elizabeth’s not looking for forgiveness, not exactly. Since her conversation with Tenenbaum, her focus has shifted from forgiveness to closure of some sort. Nevertheless, it still feels like an eternity of walking past rotting corpses, missing persons posters, and the occasional lone Big Daddy when to Elizabeth’s great relief, Jack speaks.

 

“Okay,” he says, and that’s that.

 

Except it’s not.

 

“What?” Elizabeth asks, confused.

 

He turns to look at her— _ really  _ look at her—and she sees the hint of a smile on his lips. “I forgive you,” he says simply, then turns back to the crude graffiti he had been inspecting. “You’re obviously not telling me everything, Anna,” he continues before she can say more. She flinches at the name, but doesn’t make her discomfort known. “I don’t quite know what to make of you, but I do know that you've obviously been helping me this whole time for a reason, the most logical one being that you felt compelled to make it up to me somehow. I’ll cut you a deal, Anna. While I do appreciate the help, the girls and Tenenbaum need it far more than I do. Help me defeat Fontaine and get them to safety, and I’ll consider your debt to me cleared. Do we have a deal?” He doesn’t turn around until the last sentence, holding out his hand in an initiation of a handshake. She takes it, shakes it firmly, and for the first time in a long time, she feels hopeful.


	18. We Need to Talk...Again

“So...do we have a plan, or are we just improvising? Because if it’s the first one I’d really like to know what it is, and if it’s the second one, we need to make one.”

 

“Well, we find the last batch of Lot 142, and then we go kick Fontaine’s ass. Of course, we have to find him first, but--”

 

“That’s not a plan, that’s a to-do list.”

 

“Well, to be fair, I’m going to die pretty soon and I have the fate of a couple dozen little girls resting on my shoulders, so please excuse me if I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

 

Anna rolls her eyes, frowning. “Fontaine’s not going to go down easily, and since we basically blabbed our current objective to him, I seriously doubt either one of those things is going to be as simple as it would have been. We need a plan.”

 

“Fair enough,” he shrugs. “So, a plan. What kind of a plan?”

 

“Uh..a successful one, obviously.” She ponders the question for a second. “Well, the goals are obvious, but how to execute them...well, the next dose of the cure is with Suchong, yes? We’re in Mercury Suites right now, but if we turn this corner--” here she gestures to the corner to their left, where Jack notes the pitter-patter of tiny feet. Anna doesn’t seem to notice--or if she does, she doesn’t care. “--and follow the path to the open area, we can head to the subway station and get back to Olympus Heights. From there we can head back to Mercury Suites, where his apartment is. We can start there, and if it’s not there then it’s probably in his lab. We should expect some company--Fontaine is sure to have sent some of his underlings to obstruct us. Are you fully stocked up on ammunition?”

 

Jack nods, a bit surprised at her knowledge of the place, considering Jack hadn’t even heard of it until they got here. Then again, she’d admitted she’d been living in Rapture before it fell. Maybe she’d lived here? He snaps himself out of his thoughts before he can imagine that and nods. “Yeah, I’ve got all the regular ammo I could afford. It wouldn’t hurt to get some alternate, though,” he adds hopefully, side-eyeing Anna with a smile.

 

To his surprise, she nods, a contemplative look on her face. “That’s a good point. What did you have in mind?”

 

Well, shoot. He had just wanted some Incendiary Bolts and Solid Slugs. They were far more effective than the regular shells, but more expensive…and no way was Anna going to let him waste his money on such “impracticalities,” as she had said...but no way was he letting this chance slide. “I was thinking Trap Bolts. Maybe some Solid Slugs and Incendiary Bolts, you know, for backup ammo. I could use some more Electric Gel, too--”

 

“No Electric Gel,” she cuts him off, and Jack frowns, about to protest. “It’s too damn expensive, and we’ve got limited funds as it is. Besides, don’t you have Electro Bolt? That works just as well.”

 

Jack breathes a sigh of defeat, but continues on. “Okay, fine, no Electric Gel. Just the bolts and the slugs, then. Some heavy-armor and anti personnel rounds, too. Couldn’t hurt.”

 

“Jack. Limited funds.”

 

“But Anna--”

 

An eyebrow raise and  _ the look  _ is all it takes to convince Jack that he’s lost. “Never get anything fun,” he mutters, crossing his arms and pouting.

 

“I let you keep the chemical thrower,” she points out, and Jack frowns harder but doesn’t argue.

 

“What if it’s not in the lab, either?” he asks, changing the subject.

 

“Well, it  _ has  _ to be. I don’t see where else Suchong would have kept it. Lord knows he wouldn’t have trusted Fontaine with it, or Tenenbaum. If he had, Fontaine would have gloated and Tenenbaum would have given it to you before you left. It stands to reason that Suchong would have hidden it away somewhere--” she stops suddenly and her eyes go wide, her face becoming pale.

 

“What is it?”

 

She doesn’t answer him right away, and Jack’s about to ask again when she closes her mouth and shakes her head. “No, he wouldn’t have put it there,” she says shakily, shaking her head. “It’s too far away on the other side of Rapture, which is an inconvenience for him, and both Fontaine and Ryan know about it, so it wouldn’t be very secure there. Plus there weren’t really any labs there, so it’s doubly unlikely, unless that was the intent and he was hiding it in plain sight...still, if it’s not in his apartment and it’s not in his lab, I suppose we’ll have to look there…”

 

“I...are you okay? You looked pretty freaked there.”

 

She looks confused, first at his presence, and then at his confusion, before realization hits her and she nods. “Yes, I’m fine. I just--bad memories.” She looks at him, and sighs at the surprised and expectant look on his face. “I…Suchong and I go back a couple years. I needed something from him to help Fontaine who had promised to help me--stupid, I know, but I was backed into a corner and had no other choices. Anyways, let me just say the experience was...quite unpleasant.” She shudders, and, well, Jack  _ was  _ going to ask her more, but after he sees the look in her eyes, he decides it’s best not to.

 

“And phase 2 of the plan?” he asks instead.

 

Anna, seemingly pleased that he’s not pushing, nods. “After we get the second dose of the cure, you’ll be back at full strength and we’ll be able to go after Fontaine. We can’t just rush at him unprepared like we usually do and expect everything to go our way, though. He’s not a mindless splicer, so out of it he’s only looking for his next fix, and he’s certainly not going to go out with a couple of well-aimed shots. He’s never done ADAM, he’s completely mentally sound despite evidence to the contrary, and he’ll have a plan. We need to be prepared for it. And we’re preparing for it by hoarding ammo, coming up with a plan of attack, and executing it flawlessly. Got that?”

 

“Got it. So, what’s the plan of attack?”

 

“Well, again, we have to come up with one. We have to know our enemy in order to defeat him.”

 

“That sounds boring.”

 

Anna rolls her eyes, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You are  _ adorably  _ infuriating, you know that?”

 

At that, Jack’s mind blanks out, and the only response he has to that is a stammered, “Uh--well--I--you--”

 

Another eyeroll, and Anna turns on her heel and walks away, turning the corner and disappearing from sight.

 

It takes a moment before his brain comes back online and he hurries to follow her.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“Gimme, gimme, gimme!”

 

“Here! Take it!” Elizabeth throws the syringe of EVE and barely misses his head, but that’s not her fault--she’s trying to remain hidden while the Spider Splicer is lurking not too far from her position, and her arm is already suffering from a previous bullet wound. She winces as she accidentally jostles her wounded arm too hard, but the pain passes in a moment. She looks over the overturned refrigerator and sees Jack hit the splicer with the classic one-two punch, dodging a meat hook thrown his way. Unfortunately, the splicer simply uppercuts him, and Elizabeth winces again as he falls to the ground, seemingly knocked out--or at least, pretending to be. She’s close enough to the fight to see that his eyes are fluttering open and closed just enough to be noticable, but far enough that the splicer won’t notice her if she strategically places a first aid kit not too far from Jack’s position.

 

Unfortunately, before she can put her plan into action, the splicer moves to stand over Jack, gripping its meat hooks menacingly. Elizabeth knows what’s going to happen before it does, and in an attempt to prevent it, screams “Hey!”, and immediately regrets her decision.

 

The splicer turns to her, screams in rage, and bolts straight for her. Thinking quickly, Elizabeth grabs her pistol, aims for the head, and fires. It’s only after she hears the pained groaning of her companion that she dares to look away, afraid that it might still be alive.

 

“You alright?” she asks, gathering the pile of syringes she had stored beside her for easy access. She then heads over to where Jack is still laying on the ground, smiling up at her with his traditional goofy grin.

 

“Did we win?” he asks, accepting her outstretched hand and grimacing as he uses it to pull himself up. “Ach, that’s going to leave a bruise…”

 

“We aren’t dead, are we?”

 

Jack nods. “Fair enough. Thanks, Anna.”

 

She winces at the name, and as Jack moves past her to inspect the body, she  figures,  _ what the hell,  _ and goes for it. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

 

“What?”

 

“Anna. I...I would prefer Elizabeth, if you don’t mind.”

 

Jack turns around, then, confused, as she had expected. “I thought you said your name was Anna.”

 

“It is. But...it...I don’t know. It just...doesn’t feel right.”

 

Jack still seems very confused, but after a moment, he nods, a thoughtful look on his face. “Alright then. Elizabeth it is. But just so you know, Anna is shorter.”

 

“Liz, then,” she says, and her heart swells with that old familiar feeling when he grins at the nickname.

 

“That’ll do,” he concedes, and turns back to the body. “Aw, hell yes!” He bends down and reaches into one of the pockets, grabbing a handful of cash and inspecting it closely. “Cash! This should be enough for a couple of bolts, don’t you think?” he asks hopefully.

 

“If you’re paying, sure, but you’re not touching my money,” she says, half-joking.

 

“Works for me!” he says cheerily, and stuffs the money in his back pocket.

 

It’s somewhat surprising how quickly the two of them went back to their old routine after everything that happened. Elizabeth isn’t exactly sure why he suddenly has complete trust in her again--though something is definitely different this time around, it’s more or less the same. She suspects that it’s because he’s keeping an eye on her--he doesn’t like her wandering off alone and he gets suspicious whenever she shows signs of discomfort or he catches her muttering to herself. It’s a bit annoying, but at least they’re on good terms again--after everything that happened Elizabeth was sure that he would never talk to her again. She’ll take a bit of monitoring over yelling and silence any day.

 

Soon enough, they arrive at the large junction that is the center of Mercury Suites. Elizabeth takes a deep breath and looks around, scanning the area. When she doesn’t find anything out of the ordinary, she nods, turning to Jack. “Alright. Suchong’s apartment is around here somewhere. Just look for his name on the gold plate by the doors.”

 

Jack nods. “Sounds easy enough. Let’s get to it.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“Liz?”

 

A correction is on the tip of her tongue, but after remembering their agreement, she bites it down. “Yeah?”

 

“I hear music. Do you hear music?”

 

“...Where the hell is that coming from.”

 

“I think it’s coming from over there.” Jack points to a nearby apartment, where, indeed, it sounds like flowy, classical music is drifting from the slightly ajar door. The music carries through the air and reverberates through the hallway, attracting a couple of curious splicers and at least one Big Daddy without an escort. Elizabeth cocks her head curiously.

 

“Wait a sec,” she tells Jack, who had been (possibly unconsciously) inching towards the apartment with caution. He stops in his tracks and turns to her, curious. “I know this song.”

 

Cue Jack’s best ‘are you serious’ face. “Are you serious?”

 

Elizabeth frowns. “This is one of Cohen’s favorites. He used to make us listen to this to ‘inspire our muse’ and ‘encourage our creativity’.” She makes a face at that, scrunching her nose in disgust. 

 

Jack seems surprised by that, turning to face her fully and frowning, but then he slowly nods his head as he remembers. “Right. You worked for Cohen…”

 

Elizabeth looks away, suddenly not in the mood for talking. Jack seems to understand, as he doesn’t say anything else, and gestures to Elizabeth to follow him to the apartment.

 

As she had suspected, the nameplate beside the door reads “S. Cohen” in faded, rusty letters. She sighs, intending to grab Jack and walk away, but when she turns to him he’s nowhere to be found. Elizabeth experiences a brief moment of panic before she hears his muffled voice, “Come on, Liz. Let’s check it out.” He pokes his head out from behind the door, grinning.

 

She folds her arms across her chest and gives him a blank look as she stares him down disapprovingly. “Jack. No.”

 

He groans dramatically. “Oh, come on! The least that could happen is he’s here, he sprouts some more nonsense, and we leave. Simple as that! What could--”

 

“ _ Don’t, _ ” she warns before he can finish his sentence. She sighs. “Okay, fine. Five minutes. I don’t know why you want to so badly though.”

 

Jack simply rolls his eyes and disappears again. With a dramatic sigh and a feeling of impending doom settling in her stomach, Elizabeth reluctantly follows.

 

As she crosses the threshold into the apartment, she notices a few things that seem a bit out of place in the dark, musty halls of Rapture--then again, one of Cohen’s dominant character traits is  _ out of place.  _ The apartment is fairly well lit, using actual ceiling lights and lamps instead of the natural light that the ocean barely lets through. The furniture, though scarce, is in decent condition--though, she notes with a hint of disdain, the leather couches and chairs are motheatten, and more than one is missing a leg or two. Directly in front of her stands a poster--an advertisement for Cohen’s latest album, she realizes, and a tiny, elevated stage with a microphone stand. She purses her lips, but elects to ignore it in favor of finding Jack--and there he is, on the other side of the poster, watching something with a mix of quiet awe and obvious confusion. She makes her way over to him and stops when she sees what he’s looking at.

 

Two Splicers are dancing a waltz, blissfully unaware of anything but each other as they sway in time to the music. Their movements are not exactly perfect, but they either don’t notice or don’t mind, because they continue dancing as though they were giddy spouses on a honeymoon. Elizabeth can’t help but envy their ignorance.

 

A loud static interrupts the music then, and Jack jumps back as though he’d been burned--no doubt as surprised by suddenly being snapped back to reality as Elizabeth is.

 

“ _ I hear your wings flapping in my home… _ ” a familiar voice croons, and both groan. “ _ Flip flap, flip flap, flip flap. Come into the light, my little moth, come in...and bring my darling Songbird along, won’t you? _ ” The Songbird in question curls her lip in disgust, something that does not go unnoticed by Jack--but oddly enough he decides not to comment on it. She probably wouldn’t either if she had to deal with Cohen all of a sudden. “Fuck off, Cohen,” she thinks she hears Jack mutter, but she can’t be sure, as Cohen’s voice starting up again muffles it.

 

“ _ I see you’re still testing your wings, little moth. Stay and enjoy the dance, if you wish... _ **_but don’t you dare rattle their rhythm._ ** ” With that, the static fades, leaving the classical music and the clacking of heels in its wake.

 

“I hate that guy,” Jack moans, looking heavenward with an exasperated expression.

 

“Don’t we all. Alright, we’ve seen enough. Let’s go,” she says, moving to grab his arm and pull him away from the still dancing couple. He shies away from her touch, however, and Elizabeth frowns. “Jack, come on. We have to find the second dose, we’re running out of time. You wanted to check this place out, we checked it out. Let’s go.”

 

“Hang on, I wanna finish watching.”

 

“Jack, they’re probably not going to be done any time soon, and we’ve already wasted enough time as it is. We’re leaving.”

 

“Twenty more minutes.”

 

“ _ Jack. _ ”

 

“Ten, then! Just ten more minutes. You can look around here, I’m sure he has some great loot. You can stock up on money and maybe some health kits and EVE--hey, who knows, maybe he’s got some Tonics lying around for us to steal. Come on, it’ll be worth it. Please. Ten more minutes. You can go look around, and I’ll stay here. I won’t move a muscle, promise.”

 

Elizabeth doesn’t buy his act for one second, but she supposes that there might be some truth to what he says. If the old adage of “people never change” is true, then Cohen is bound to have loads of junk just lying around for the taking, and it would certainly be worth-while to take a couple of minutes to dig around. Though she’s still concerned about Jack and wasting time, she nods, intending to just grab what she sees and go. That doesn’t stop her from worrying, though.  _ It shouldn’t take too long,  _ she thinks, reverting back to her old habit of squeezing her pinky.  _ Just ten minutes, he said. That’s not too long. We still have to find Suchong’s apartment though...maybe we should just go now. No, no. I told him he could stay. Maybe he could stay here while I found the apartment? No, best not to leave him alone. God knows what kind of trouble he could get into... _

 

She sighs and makes her way over to a corner by the door, turning it and walking down a dimly-lit hallway and winding up what looks to be the remains of a dining area. Clearly, she was right earlier about the niceness of the entrance area being a bit too nice--clearly it was a front for the crappy condition of the rest of the apartment, or maybe simply to make up for it. She makes quick work of this area, finding nothing amid the overturned chairs, partly smashed table, and piles of rubble (save for a dead body, which she shoots once or twice just to be on the safe side). Sighing again, she makes her way out of the room and heads back to the main area, where she finds an identical hallway right across from the first one. She decides that that’s as good a place as any, so she heads to what she assumes is the kitchen, if the smell of rotting meat is any indication.

 

It’s just as messy as the dining room, she finds--even more piles of rubble litter the area, and spoiled food is sitting out on what’s left of the counter. She wrinkles her nose in disgust, turning away and searching for valuables in the fridge and counter spaces. Finding nothing yet again, she decides that the place must be as empty as she thought it was and makes the decision to head back to Jack when--

 

“ _ Fuck, fuck, fuck! _ ”

 

At first she thinks it’s Cohen; then she realizes that the tone of the voice was not one of dementedness as much as it was panic and fright. Realizing that it must be Jack-- _ Damn him, I  _ **_knew_ ** _ I couldn't leave him alone for more than a minute _ \--she hurries back to the entrance area, where the dancing Splicers have vanished. She looks around for Jack and spots him almost instantaneously, clutching his weapon for dear life and looking full of regret.

 

“What did you do?” she demands, walking up to him and putting her hands on her hips disapprovingly. When his response is to stutter indignantly (“What--I-- _ no, I wouldn’t _ \--I--I mean--I didn’t--”) she rolls her eyes, grabbing his arm. “Come on. We’ve spent enough time here. We need to get going.”

 

They’re nearing the door when Cohen decides to speak again, his voice a thinly veiled mixture of fury and indignation. “ _ When will you ever learn to take instruction? I’m coming down there, little ones...coming down there to teach you to  _ **_dance._ ** ”

 

“Frickin’-- _damnit,_ Jack!”

 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I was just fiddling with it, and then there was an explosion and suddenly they were gone. I know I said I wouldn’t move, I’m sorry, Liz--”

 

“Now we have to deal with the psychopath, which is going to take up valuable time, by the way, time that we could have been spending searching for that damn cure. Thanks a lot, Jack.” She throws her hands up in exasperation, pulling out her crossbow and loading it with ammunition in preparation for whatever Cohen has prepared.

 

Jack huffs, just as pissed as he checks his shotgun for whatever had set it off. “Yeah. You’re welcome,” he spits bitterly.

 

There’s silence for a few moments--moments that stretch into minutes, and just when Elizabeth thinks that they're safe after all Cohen makes his entrance by lobbing a fireball directly at her head. By some miracle, she manages to dodge, and fires a bolt at his head, which of course misses.

 

“How  _ dare _ you come into  _ my  _ house and disrespect  _ me!  _ I’ll show you!” he cries, aiming again. Elizabeth curses loudly as he fires at Jack this time, and actually manages to nick him on the shoulder. Jack reels back, nearly dropping his shotgun before steadying himself on one of the nearby bookshelves.

 

“Of all the people you could have pissed off, it  _ had  _ to be this guy,” she grumbles, throwing him a first aid kit which he surprisingly still has the wherewithal to catch. He shoots her an apologetic look before he ducks behind an overturned table to bandage his wound, disappearing from the action for a few moments. With Jack gone from the battle, all of Cohen’s attention is now on her, and she grimaces as he grins viciously.

 

“Oh, what did I do to deserve this,” she sighs, and ducks behind an overturned chair just before Cohen throws a fireball right where she was standing. She takes a deep breath, trying to gain some semblance of a plan before he strikes again, another fireball lobbed right at her current position destroying what little cover she has. This time, she is not so lucky--she manages to roll out of the way, but not before the fire reaches her blouse and begins to burn the thin cloth. Swearing profusely, she tears the sleeve completely off, throwing it to the side, and stands up, grabbing an Incendiary Bolt--for once thanking Jack’s preference for flashier ammunition--reloads, and fires at Cohen’s head.

 

She doesn’t miss, but he doesn’t go down. He doesn’t even seem fazed, merely turning his attention from the smouldering armchair to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Jack lying on the floor, his chin smeared with blood that’s still dribbling out of his mouth, and even from here, she can hear him heaving heavy breaths--he must have taken quite a beating while she was hiding. With her acting as a distraction for Cohen, maybe now he can bandage himself up--hopefully there’s still some supplies left from the last first aid kit she tossed him. She has just enough time to wonder how he had managed to get so beat up so fast before she’s on her toes again, Cohen throwing fireball after fireball at her head as she struggles to reload her weapon.

 

“ _ Gah! _ Why--” she takes aim and fires, once again hitting her target dead on, but somehow he still lives. “Won’t--” another hit, but no dice. “You--” she fires again. She misses this time. “--Die?!” Another hit, but Cohen still lives. She screams in frustration, reaching for another bolt, only to come up empty. Her heart leaps into her throat as she realizes that she’s going to have to switch to another weapon--which wouldn’t be a problem if she had been reloading them from time to time. Such is her luck, the pistol that she grabs just so happens to be empty. She ducks behind a corner, elicitng a pained shout from Cohen, and makes to reload, her fingers slipping more than once due to her haste. She’s halfway through when she hears a noise in front of her, and looks up to see Cohen ugly masked face staring right at her. She shrieks in surprise and fires, but he somehow dodges the point-blank bullet and socks her in the gut before disappearing in a cloud of red dust.

 

“Oh, wonderful,’ she manages, still winded. “He can  _ teleport. _ ”

 

Is that how Jack had gotten beaten to hell so quickly?

 

No, she decides a moment later as she catches movement out of the corner of her eye, it’s not.

 

The two waltzing splicers are back, and this time around Elizabeth notices that at least of them is  Frosty Splicer. She groans internally--but she knows that if she plays it right he won’t be any trouble at all. The other splicer, fortunately, looks normal, holding a lead pipe that looks like it’s already seen some use, and Elizabeth can only imagine how much  _ that _ must have hurt. She winces involuntarily. They must’ve snuck up from behind Jack while he was bandaging his shoulder. She makes a mental note to punch that one extra hard.

 

She finishes reloading as quickly and quietly as she can. She peeks around the corner, making sure that the Frosty is in the hair trigger--right at the head, too, because unlike Cohen she  _ knows _ these things aren’t as strong as they think they are. She fires a quick one, two, three shots, and thankfully, he falls over dead without much fuss. The other splicer shrieks, jumping back and twisting her head around wildly, looking for the source of the fire. Her eyes land on Jack, who is still looking the worse for wear (though he’s moved since she last saw him--he’s behind another overturned chair with the first aid kit spread out before him). She shrieks again and raises her bloody pipe--and with barely a moment’s thought, Elizabeth jumps out and fires at her, shooting her in the shoulder. The splicer whips towards her and Elizabeth fires another bullet into her leg. The splicer is undeterred, and proves as such when she throws her weapon in Elizabeth’s general direction. She easily dodges the attack, and the splicer disappears. Another teleporter...great.

 

“Are you okay?” Elizabeth asks, turning to Jack and giving him a once over. Aside from the blood on his face and the right hand, which she notices is bandaged up and looking right again, he doesn’t appear to have any new injuries.

 

Jack coughs, specks of blood covering his bandages as he raises his fist. “Yeah. One of his lackeys got the jump on me and pummeled me into the ground. He was fast...even for a Splicer. Must’ve had a tonic of some kind. God, it hurts to breathe. Maybe we can find one of those healing stations…” he trails off, his voice wistful.

 

His companion sighs, rolling her eyes.Even when she’s gone for only a second, that boy still somehow manages to get into more trouble than he’s worth.  _ Unbelievable.  _ “You make it sound like we haven’t passed dozens of those on our way over here. We’ll find one and get you patched up. What happened to your hand?”

 

Jack looks down. “Oh. Yeah, it’s alright I guess. I think I broke my wrist, but again. If we can find a healing station--”

 

Elizabeth nods. “Right. Those things are stocked with pure ADAM. A dose of that stuff should fix any injures you have and make you good as new...okay. Let’s go find one and then we can finally get back to more important matters, like making sure you don’t die before you kick Fontaine’s ass.”

 

Jack grins. “Now that, I can agree with. We just have to escape Cohen’s notice...should be simple, right?”

 

“We are no longer taking suggestions on what to do from you, keep that in mind.”

 

He laughs before wincing and holding a hand to his chest. “Yeah, fair enough,” he breathes out. “So what’s the plan?”

 

Elizabeth shrugs. “Dunno. I’m pretty sure he’s invincible--he took  _ five headshots _ and is still standing--so I’d rather not waste my ammo fighting him. Do you think you could make it to the exit without being spotted? I could try and create a diversion if you’re seen.”

 

Jack nods.

 

“Alright. Go.”

 

He begins his slow but steady crawl to the door on the far side of the room, which had been blasted off of its hinges sometime during the fight. He’s almost to the exit when he’s spotted, by Cohen no less, who couldn’t have chosen a worse time to reappear. He screams in fury upon spotting Jack’s near escape, and throws himself on the unsuspecting man. Jack cries out in pain as Cohen starts raining down punches, and Elizabeth, realizing what she must do, throws herself into the fray again, readying a Plasmid with that little EVE she has left. She shoots an Electro Bolt at the pair, only to flinch as she hears Jack and Cohen’s combined screams of agony as they writhe in tandem.

 

_ Okay, that’s not going to work. Crap. _

 

She ducks behind a corner, ignoring the indignant ramblings of the mad man, and begins to formulate a plan. Okay, so she can’t use her Plasmids without hurting Jack as well, and true, if Jack was healthier he would probably survive, albeit barely. But even if one more shot of that stuff wouldn’t kill him, she still wouldn’t do it. No, there has to be another way--

 

Wait.

 

Maybe  _ she  _ can’t use her Plasmids, but Jack. Jack can.

 

He’s got a better vantage point anyways.

 

Her plan complete, she peeks around the corner and waits for Jack to be facing her. “Booker!” she calls, throwing him an EVE needle, which he almost doesn’t catch with the way he’s flailing. “Catch!”

 

Jack plunges the needle into his arm a moment later, the Electro Bolt Plasmid he has equipped coming to life once again, the unnatural glow of the ADAM in his veins setting them alight and causing his arm to spark with electricity. A quick flex of his not bandaged hand later, and Cohen is three feet away, convulsing violently on the floor. Jack quickly switches to Incinerate! and sets him on fire, once, twice, and with a final furious scream, Cohen lies dead. ELizabeth actually laughs in relief.

 

“Finally,” she sighs, coming over to where Jack still lies on the ground, a smile on his face as well. “I’ve been wanting to do  _ that  _ ever since I started working for him.” The memories that accompany that sentence somber her mood a bit, and she shakes her head. “Anyways. We need to find a healing station, and then we need to find the second dose of that cure.”

 

Jack nods. “Right. I saw one by a Circus of Values earlier? We could head back there. I’m pretty sure you need more ammo, too. I told you, you should’ve bought some for yourself, but  _ no _ \--”

 

“Don’t,” she warns, holding up a hand, but her tone is joking. “Let’s just go.” She holds out a hand to him, which he gladly accepts, pulling himself up. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

After they’ve purchased more ammo (and exactly  _ three  _ more first aid kits, all for Jack once they found that the health station he had mentioned had been busted to hell since they’d last passed it), they’re on their way again. It doesn’t take them too long this time to find one Dr. Yi Suchong’s apartment--thanks to their recent excursion Jack is entirely unwilling to stray more than five feet away from Elizabeth, something that’s proven to be a blessing and a curse. The door itself is shut tight, but Jack manages to find a crowbar to pry the door open.

 

The inside is flooded, and although the pair wasn’t expecting that, they manage to wade through the water to search inside the apartment for the antidote. Though twenty minutes of thorough searching turn out to be fruitless, as they’re about to leave Elizabeth notices something out of the corner of her eye.

 

“What’s this?” she murmurs to herself, picking up the discarded Audio Diary on the desk. Though clearly it’s seen some wear and tear since it was last used, it still appears playable. She waits until Jack has come to stand beside her before she presses play.

 

“ _ Fontaine’s become some kind of boogeyman in Rapture...that myth gives him power. But peel back flim-flam and the humbug, he’s just another con man. And like all con men, he worries he’ll end up on the wrong side of grift. That’s why he commissioned Lot 192, the antidote to the mental control Plasmid. Fontaine said I better not tell anybody about the antidote, not even Tenenbaum. And Suchong...is inclined to listen. _ ”

 

Jack swears furiously. “I swear to God, if we meet that man, I’ll tear his face off. Great. The antidote isn't here, obviously, so what now?”

 

Tenenbaum, who has been silent for the past half hour, decides that now is a wonderful time to speak up. “ _ I knew there was something to that. Always secrets with Suchong, always secrets...he must have this Lot 192 in his labs near Apollo Squares. You must hurry before it’s too late, Jack. You do not have much time left. _ ”

 

Jack grimaces. “Yes, thank you for reminding me. Okay. Apollo Squares...where is that again?” he asks, turning to Elizabeth. Elizabeth frowns.

 

“Uh. Not too far from our current position, I’d say. We could probably make it there in about ten minutes if we hurry. How much time do we have left, Tenenbaum?”

 

“ _ I would say about forty minutes, Fraulein Elizabeth. Please make sure Herr Jack does no go wandering off on his own. I think we’ve both seen how badly that can turn out. _ ” The comment earns a whine from Jack and a chuckle from Elizabeth.

 

“Wasn’t planning on it. Thanks, Tenenbaum.”

 

“ _ Thank  _ **_you._ ** _ And good luck. _ ”


	19. Why Do These People Have So Many Damn Secrets?

“Who’s Booker?”

 

Elizabeth stops, her heart racing at the name as she turns to look at her companion. “What?”

 

“Back at Cohen’s,” he explains, not quite looking at her as he steps over another dead Splicer. “You called me Booker when you tossed me that EVE capsule.”

 

“I…” she sighs. “Yes, I did. Booker...was a friend of mine, a long time ago. He helped me in more ways than one...you kind of remind me of him, actually. He--he died, a couple of years ago. Drowned in an accident. I’m sorry, I--I’d really rather not talk about him. Please.” It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. She’d promised to stop lying to both herself and to Jack after they’d reconciled, but in order to fully explain the situation to him a lot of backstory would be needed, and that would mean revealing more of her past than she’d really care to. For now, the half-lie is enough.

 

To her surprise, Jack doesn’t pry any further, simply nodding. “I’m sorry for your loss. I...I shouldn’t have asked, sorry--”

 

“No, it’s okay. It’s--I’ve made my peace with it. I’d just rather not discuss it any further.”

 

Jack nodded again. They continue on in companionable silence until they reach the entrance to Apollo Square. The gate has already been pried open, so entrance into the area itself is easy as pie. All that’s needed now is to find Suchong’s lab in the next thirty minutes before Jack’s heart stops beating and kills him. Simple.

 

They make their way past various dead Splicers and piles of rubble before coming upon an overturned trolley car, which, while a nice change of scenery, doesn’t actually hold many valuables aside from another first aid kit and a couple of dollars. They continue on their way, avoiding a Big Daddy without a Little Sister (Jack wants to follow him to a vent so they can rescue another girl, and Elizabeth, though she sympathizes, has to put her foot down). After a couple of minutes they come across a scaffolding of some kind, and it takes Elizabeth but a minute to realize that it’s meant for hanging. She gulps loudly.

 

“Dear God…” Jack whispers, equally disturbed. “What  _ happened  _ to this place?”

 

“Apollo Square, or Rapture?”

 

Jack shakes his head, turning away ruefully. He doesn’t grace her with a response.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

It doesn’t take them too long to reach Artemis Suites. Tenenbaum had said that Suchong’s lab was on the second floor, so that’s where they head. They fight a few Splicers here and there, but aside from that and the occasional low rumble of a Big Daddy somewhere far off, it’s smooth sailing...something that endlessly worries Elizabeth.

 

“This isn’t right,” she mutters. A quiet “hm” from Jack doesn’t do much to soothe her nerves. “I’m serious, Jack. Something’s up. All this time we’ve been in Rapture, it’s been a constant fight for survival. We haven’t had a moment’s rest since we got here. But now everything’s easy peasy? It doesn’t add up.”

 

Jack takes a moment to genuinely think about what Elizabeth is asking him. After a moment or two, he narrows his eyes and cocks his shotgun for emphasis. “Shit. You’re right. It can’t be this easy, not when we’re so close. Something’s coming, something big. We’ve got to be ready.”

 

Elizabeth nods in agreement, glad she’s finally gotten her partner’s attention. She readies her own shotgun and notices that Jack is pulling out an EVE capsule to replenish himself. Elizabeth lays a hand on his arm, squeezing firmly.

 

“Wait, not so fast,” she says. “I don’t think we’re in any immediate danger, and you refilled your EVE only thirty something minutes ago, which means that you have more than half left. We should save our supplies; we don’t know when we’ll be able to restock. If worst comes to worst, we’ll have enough to defeat the bad guys but have none left over. Be on the alert but don’t waste our ammo.”

 

Jack nods again, frowning slightly. He lowers his weapon by the tiniest fraction, noticing that Elizabeth does not do the same. He wonders briefly what happened in her past that instilled into her the belief that she can’t let her guard down for one second—but maybe it’s just the nature of this place. He avoids the question for now, instead focusing on the uneasiness emanating from the both of them and the tension in the air; the anticipation and dread that usually accompanies surprises in Rapture.

 

He doesn’t think he can take another Rapture surprise—after Big Daddy's, fire-wielding drug addicts, and lying, manipulative egomaniacs, he doesn’t know what else this city could possibly throw at him, but he knows it won’t be good.

 

He swallows the bile in his throat and follows Elizabeth through the endless tunnels and winding, abandoned hallways of Rapture. They walk in silence once more, letting the various sounds of the forgotten city fill the air—the occasional roar of water pouring in from a crack in the walls or ceiling, the deranged muttering and snickering of nearby Splicers, always hidden in the shadows, just out of sight. The only sound coming from themselves is the clacking of Elizabeth’s high heels on the algae-infested floor as they make their way past another Big Daddy, who doesn’t even spare them a glance as he bangs his fist on one of the Sister vents. Jack and Elizabeth stay for a second or two to see if a girl will emerge, but after the big, hulking creature moans pitifully and lumbers away, they shake their heads and continue on.

 

They come upon Suchong’s lab soon enough, the place seemingly both unguarded and abandoned. The door hangs off its hinges, the bottom and middle singed black from fire--no doubt, before they knocked it off its hinges the splicers trying to get in tried to burn the door down. No such luck there, Elizabeth notes with a tiny amount of amusement as she realizes that despite the fact that the door is in danger of falling on them and has more than a few scorch marks, it’s still mostly intact.

 

They pass through the threshold, careful to not disturb the door should it indeed fall. Elizabeth holds her shotgun in front of her, her finger already resting lightly on the trigger as she does a quick survey of the area. She doesn’t find anything unusual--there’s a security camera right around the corner which she’s quick to shoot. Two shells from her shotgun make quick work of it, sending it skidding across the empty hallway to land in the far corner of the opposite side of the room. Other than that, aside from a Gene Bank hanging off the wall, the lab is almost completely bare. Elizabeth and Jack make their way through the halls, scouring the hallways and rooms for the last dose of the cure. They don’t find it, but they hadn't been expecting too--it was a precaution, nothing more. They come across a couple of Splicers, something with oddly enough  _ relieves _ Elizabeth--she had been getting far too uncomfortable with the silence of Rapture and the sense that something big was coming. They were only a couple of Thugheads, so the battle doesn’t last long at all, but it still does wonders for her nerves. She confides as much to Jack, who nods and says, “Same, actually. But don’t let your guard down. No doubt Fontaine has cooked up something particularly nasty for us. Whether that comes now or when we finally go to confront him is to be determined, obviously, but due to the lack of Splicers I’d say that he’s ordered them to draw back for now. Probably rallying them for a boos fight of some kind.”

 

“Well, naturally. I’m just saying it’s a relatively good thing that it’s not totally quiet, you know? Helps to kinda relieve the tension, shooting people in the face.”

 

Jack raises an eyebrow. “There’s a story there, I’m sure.”

 

His partner rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Save the banter for later. We’ve got work to do in the present. We have about twenty minutes before your heart stops beating and you fall over dead. We need to find that cure. Come on.”

 

“Such a buzzkill,” Jack mutters as he follows her through the clinic. “Where’s your fun side?”

 

A quick but sharp poke in the abdomen with her elbow is enough to shut him up.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

They stumble across Suchong’s lab not more than a minute later. The sight that greets them is one Elizabeth has seen before, and remembers well (and one she secretly and somewhat guiltily relishes). In light of recent events forcing her to return, she’s mentally prepared herself for the sight that would greet her once she stepped into Suchong’s lab. She had, however, neglected to mention this to Jack, who upon seeing the former doctor’s corpse pinned to the desk by a rather bloody Bouncer drill, turns away and vomits on the floor next to an overturned chair.

 

Elizabeth winces, sympathizing, but steps back. The putrid smell of stomach acid fills her nostrils and she recoils, pushing down the contents of her own stomach at the smell.

 

“Come on,” she says to him once he’s finished. “The dose should be somewhere in this room. Let’s start looking.”

 

Jack nods wearily, slowly standing straight again and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “Right. The dose. Gahhh….what the hell did he do to invoke the wrath of a Big Daddy?”

 

Elizabeth doesn’t even glance back at the unfortunate doctor as she helps to steady Jack. “In my experience, it doesn’t take much.”

 

They stop talking and split up to search various area of the room for any indication of any kind of vial of liquid that is hopefully the antidote to the mind control Plasmid. After about forty seconds of searching, Jack calls Elizabeth over to the far side of the room, where Suchong’s workspace is. In his hand he holds a half-full vial of some sort of red liquid--no doubt it’s exactly what they’ve been looking for. Elizabeth grins, coming to a stop next to Jack as she waits for him to down the thing.

 

He does so, although with some hesitance on his part, which she understands--after all, neither of them have any idea if this will be painful or not, or what it’s going to do to his body. It turns out that some minor convulsions and a quick bout of screaming as his entire system is shut down and rewired is all that happens, something which the both of them are grateful for. Jack is leaning against the counter on his hands, recovering from the shock and pain when he feels it.

 

A slight breeze whispers past his forehead, cooling the beads of sweat that had gathered there. He looks up in shock, eyes wide as he looks for the source. Elizabeth starts next to him, putting down the notes she had been examining and looking at him with concern.

 

“Jack?”

 

“Do you feel that?”

 

“What?”

 

“Do you feel that. Over there.” He points in the direction he thinks the breeze came from, and notices for the first time that there is a slight crack in the wall. No, not a crack, he realizes--it’s a hidden doorway. “There’s a breeze coming from that wall. There’s a hidden door there.”

 

Elizabeth pales, body going rigid. Jack doesn’t comment, too preoccupied with his discovery to notice. “I...Jack, are you sure we have time for--”

 

“No. Probably not. But just a quick look, alright? One peek. I want to see.”

 

His partner groans loudly, pushing her long hair out of her face--the ponytail was coming loose, Jack notes absently. “Do you remember the last time you said those words?”

 

“I do. But I promise I mean it this time, Liz. Just a peek. I won’t touch anything, and the second you say we’re going, we’re gone.”

 

“Jack,” Elizabeth tries to protest, but even as the words leave her mouth, she knows it’s a lost cause. When Jack wants something, it’s hard to argue with him, especially when the two have already argued so much because of their stubbornness and pride. She sighs. “Okay. Okay, just one look. I...I already know what’s back there, though,” she admits quietly, turning her face away so Jack can’t see.

 

At this, he stops, head snapping sideways to look at her. “What?”

 

“I’ve been there,  _ here _ , before. Just…just one look. Then we’re gone.” She doesn’t elaborate in the silence that follows, and after a few seconds Jack decides that she doesn’t need to. He’ll find out in a few seconds anyways. He nods and goes to open the crack further, digging his fingers into the opening and pulling to reveal a long hallway that leads to a giant window overlooking Rapture.

 

As they walk along the hallway, Jack notices Elizabeth growing more and more nervous.  _ Whatever she’s hiding,  _ he thinks,  _ whatever happened here...it must be bad. Really bad, if she’s acting like this again. _ He shudders at the thought. He isn’t sure what could be worse than what had already happened between them, but he doesn’t really want to find out, either.

 

They reach the end of the hallway and come into a wide, open space that looks as though it used to be occupied by a bunch of smugglers. There are crates over in the corner of the room, stacked upon each other to make a pyramid of some sort, and there are discarded candy wrappers and food items scattered across that side of the room. Clearly, though, whoever had inhabited this area--smuggler or otherwise--has long since cleared out--upon further inspection the pair can see that most of the crates have been pried open and emptied of their contents, some of which have been discarded carelessly into a small heap at the bottom of the stacks. Oil cans, records, paint tubes, and various other household items that previous scavengers had deemed useless combine to make a pile no bigger than one of the ground level crates. Elizabeth kicks the pile for no particular reason, sending its contents scurrying out from beneath her vengeful heel.

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Jack close by, gingerly lowering himself onto a crate and out of her line of sight; the crate is one of the few that had not had its contents pilfered, no doubt because it was labeled HOUSEWARE GOODS, and is thus mostly intact. He seems content to just sit there, watching as Elizabeth tries and fails to climb the mountain of crates to see if there is anything worth salvaging at the top. A comfortable silence fills the air as this continues for a few more minutes, and Elizabeth is just about to give up and suggest they head back when Jack makes a surprised little noise, like he's just realized something. Elizabeth stops, turning her head to look down at her partner curiously.

 

"Liz. Over there."

 

"What?"

 

"Over there. Look."

 

Elizabeth, belatedly, realizes that he's pointing at her--no, not at  _ her, _ something past her--and she follows his finger to the middle of the room where, slumped against the window, the outline of a body no longer there can be seen in a puddle of blood. Her stomach sinks at the sight, and for once, she does not try to hide her face or her disgust from her companion.

 

"What do you think? Splicer? God, I hope it's not a Spider--wait, why...why are you looking at me like that."

 

She doesn't say anything, knowing that by doing so she’s damning herself even further. But what else can she do? If she tells him, tells him everything he wants to know, then there’s no going back. She’s not sure she can make that commitment just yet. Not now. Maybe not ever. But she knows that that choice has already been made for her, and so she braces herself.

 

"Liz."

 

"I...Jack."

 

A pregnant pause. Then, "...Elizabeth. What else are you hiding from me?" He looks terrified now, as terrified as he had looked when she had told him about Sally. She doesn't want him to be terrified.  _ Maybe he's not terrified for him. Maybe he's terrified for  _ **_you._ ** He shouldn't be. She doesn't deserve that.

 

"There's no Splicer, Jack. It's--there's no need to worry. Nothing’s coming. We’re safe for now--"

 

"--What...what are you talking about? There was  _ clearly _ a body there some time ago. It's got to be a Splicer--can't be a victim, Splicers wouldn't bother with those unless they contained ADAM."

 

"Jack, it wasn't a Splicer. It was a corpse, and…” She braces herself, taking a deep, steadying breath.  _ This is it,  _ she thinks.  _ No more hiding. No more lies. If you do this, you tell him everything.  _ “It was a corpse, and the body's right here."

 

"...Elizabeth. Just tell me what you’ve hidden this time," he sighs, pushing his hair back from his face with an exasperated sigh. She winces at the bitter tone in his voice, but she can’t help it--she had of course expected that he’d sound so resigned after finding out that she still hadn’t told him everything. She would have felt the same way.

 

She's so weak. She can barely stand, let alone  _ move, _ and if this whole adventure doesn’t wrap up soon so she can get some rest she's going to collapse. Still, she summons up enough strength to climb down the mountain, stand in front of Jack (or somewhere in that vicinity), and weakly gesture to herself. At Jack's obviously confused expression, "Me," is the only thing she says. It's the only thing she needs to. Jack's face morphs from confused and oh-so-done with her bullshit to horror and disbelief.

 

There’s silence for a long time, so long that Elizabeth wonders if this is it, this is what it’s going to be like from now on--with him staring at her with this mix of utter disbelief and abject horror at the revelation that she--that she--

 

“You died.”

 

Yeah. That.

 

“You  _ died? _ ” Even after being confronted with the evidence, Jack still doesn’t seem to have wrapped his head around it. “But...but you’re here. The Vita-Chambers? Wait, no. Those were tuned to my and Ryan’s genetic frequencies. But then how--how…” He looks at her, confusion slowly replacing the previous look he’d had. “How?”

 

“I…” _ No more lying, _ she reminds herself firmly. _ No more tricks. Just tell him the truth. What you know. _ “It’s a long story...I’m not sure where to begin,” she admits, looking at him with remorse. Thankfully, some of his unease and general wariness has dissipated--no doubt because of Elizabeth's willingness to tell him the truth, and her obvious unwillingness to bullshit him any longer. “The beginning...it’s a long time ago, and I’m not sure you would quite understand. It’s...it’s like I said before, when...when I was telling you about Atlas. About how I helped him. That’s a part of it, actually. Jack…” she looks at him, seeing him bristle at the name Atlas and the mention of the situation. She’d rather not think about it either, but if she and Jack are going to make it out of this alive...if he’s going to trust her completely, he needs to know. He has to know. “Jack, you are not going to understand one bit of this. And that’s okay. I wouldn’t either--to be frank, I probably wouldn’t even believe it. But you need to know, that what I’m about to tell you...what you’re about to hear? It’s all real. I’m going to tell you everything, just like you wanted. But you have to listen. Okay?”

 

Jack is silent for about a minute before he looks at her again, and it takes her a moment to place the look--it’s the same look he gave her before, when he had originally wanted to hear her story. She shudders just thinking about it, and for a brief moment wishes she had told him all this in the Sanctuary...or in the beginning. “Okay,” he says, nodding, seeming strangely aware of her plight. “Okay.”

 


End file.
